Ace in the Hole
by Ringshadow
Summary: Everyone has a price. What if someone found out yours? Would you betray everything you knew? Based around James McCloud, Complete
1. Authors Note

Author's Note:

This story is being registered as PG-13, but it probably leans more toward R. I don't want to register it as being Mature only, so I'll just put the warning across here:

This story contains adult language and some sexuality, as well as violence. It also breaks some generally accepted character molds.


	2. Prologue

Ace in the Hole

"Emperor Andross?"

Andross rubbed his eyes, pushing the microscope away. "Thank you for being prompt, O'Donnel."

Wolf touched his hand to his brow, glancing around the lab. This place always gave him nightmares for days. Andross created things that killed and things that cured within inches of each other. Wolf knew it was genius, but it scared him. It was the one thing that did. "What is your need?"

"I need your opinion on something." He picked up a test tube, sealing it absently. "This war coming up… do you think we shall win?"

Wolf stared at him. "… Yes. Yes I do. Corneria and their alliances, for all their armada, can't hold against ours. In the end, we will have an edge."

"Indeed. Our technology is superior. However…." He held up the test tube, looking at the contents. All Wolf saw was pale blue liquid. "What do you suppose would happen if they called in Star Fox?"

"Ah." Wolf leaned on a desk, rubbing his chin. "That is an interesting question. They're good… I've seen them. Three fighters honed to greatness. They could propose a problem."

"So you're saying if we get rid of them, there is no threat to our victory." Andross stated, still staring at the test tube.

"Barring they pull a miracle from somewhere… yes." Wolf held up a finger. "But I've met McCloud. He's tough as diamond, just as sharp. Getting rid of him will not be easy."

"I've met him as well, but something about diamonds: they have one fatal weak spot." Andross looked at Wolf. "I have something that he desperately wants."

"Bad enough to abandon his planet, his friends? His son?" Wolf lifted an eyebrow slowly. "No amount of money could buy that man. His wingmates perhaps…"

"In due time, O'Donnel." Andross set the test tube in a machine, pressing a set of keys. "In due time. For now, I need you to do something for me…"


	3. Section 1

James walked down the sidewalk, lifting a hand in greeting with a smile as a car passing by slowed, driver yelling in his direction. Shaking away thoughts that this place would soon see war, he opened his mailbox and leaned on it, going through the envelopes absently. Bills and more bills, power, phone, Arspace Dynamics, paycheck… and a blank envelope, no stamp, just his name written in black ink on the front. He frowned at it, holding it up to the light. Yes, there was something inside it; this must have been set in his mailbox by hand.

He walked back up the sidewalk, going in the door automatically and setting the rest of the mail down on the table next to the door, sitting down in the living room and opening it with one of his worn claws, the folded sheet of paper falling into his hands. He opened it, and gaped when a check for five thousand credits fell into his lap. He picked it up, letter falling aside, holding it up to the light as well, looking at the watermark. It was real. Five thousand credits? Why?

He looked at the letter, picking it back up slowly, looking at the strong scrawling masculine handwriting. As he skimmed down it, he felt ice crawl into his veins, into his heart. How had this gotten his mailbox? Who had gotten within a stone's throw from his private residence, his house? The letter was detached and businesslike, a proposal of contract for the time of the war. But it wasn't from General Pepper, or from the President.

He let it drop into his lap, cradling his head in his hands. He was a mercenary. All this was was a proposal of contract. Why was he so unsettled?

He knew why.

He slowly stood, tucking the check and the letter in his inner jacket pocket, throwing the envelope away. Only then did he walk through the house and open the glass back door, smiling as his son shot by with a basketball, evading his friend's grasp by inches and shooting up, sinking the ball and hanging for a second. He applauded with a laugh as Fox touched down. "Not bad."

"He cheats." Falco was grinning though, popping a soda open. "Hey, old man."

He smiled at the skinny avian. "Hey yourself." He turned to his son. "I'm going to be gone a few hours, but I'll be back by dinner with any luck."

"Ok, see you later." Fox sent him a grin, already setting up for the next round of his game.

He closed the door and went back through the house, scooping his keys up and going out to his car, trying to brush away the consequences of what he was doing. He had no formal allegiance with this planet. It was his home, but it was not his country.

He just lived here, when he wasn't on duty. And he loved it.

Half an hour later saw his fighter leaving the atmosphere and lining up for a hyperspace jump. Waiting for his ship to accept the coordinates he had input, he read the letter again, slower this time, again wondering how this had gotten to his house. He sighed, bracing as his fighter bent space and lunged forward, putting a timer on his display as the FTL drives screamed him toward his destination. He stared at the window at the stars streaking by, waiting.

He didn't have long to wait.

"I still don't like this."

Andross was practically ignoring O'Donnel, watching the video feed with all his attention, loosing himself it in for a few seconds. "You'll see, O'Donnel." He finally said, turning the monitor off and standing, smoothing the white lab coat absently. "Where is he?"

"He's with his plane. A guard offered to take him to a meeting area, but he refused… Emperor, this isn't safe."

"Relax, O'Donnel. I'm not afraid of him."

The walk to the docking bay as a long one, ship personnel moving to get out of his way and bowing or saluting breathlessly. He acknowledged them automatically, trying to prepare his mind for this meeting. He heard O'Donnel walking behind him, and ignored it, his favored wing commander had a hapless paranoia about this sort of thing. He knew that his guest wouldn't dare hurt him until he knew the point of this meeting.

In which case, Andross would have him.

The docking bay opened up ahead of him, and he saw a number of his people frozen in their work, staring in shock at the small fighter plane sitting alone near the bay door, the figure leaning on it with his arms crossed, waiting. He looked up when Andross came in, crossing the empty space to the plane, hands in his pockets. "Andross." James McCloud said with unease, taking the letter out of his inner jacket pocket and holding it up. "I got your message."

"Good. I take it my proposal is open for discussion then?"

"Only if you're willing to explain yourself." He took out the check. "Is this any good?"

"Every penny. I figured it would be good incentive for you to trust me. Shall we?"

"Yes. Without your escort."

Andross looked over his shoulder at O'Donnel. "You're dismissed."

"Emperor…"

"Dismissed."

And O'Donnel went, making no move to disguise his anger and frustration.

"Walk with me, McCloud."

James fell into step with Andross, casting a side look at the scientist's lean figure, almost unable to believe this aging man was the up-and-coming threat to the safety of the system. But he had been there when the laboratory on Corneria had fallen. He had almost had his face taken off by a gengineered beast, the six claws coming less then an inch from his eye before his gun came to bear and fired without even aiming, the bullets pumping into the scaled chest, the scream sounding too human not to pain his heart.

"Your letter said that you wanted to contract me for the duration of the war, but said nothing of pay, of terms, or even why." James finally said uneasily.

"It is the belief of myself, and others, that your group will be a roadblock to our progress in the war." He stepped into an elevator, gesturing for James to do so as well. "So I seek to remove this roadblock in the easiest possible way."

"Somehow I'd imagine that would be killing me, not offering to pay me."

Andross smiled. "Not in this case, no. I have nothing against you, McCloud. I just wish you out of action during the war."

"You know I can't do that. The Cornerian government will ask me to fight."

"You are a mercenary, you can do what you wish." Andross pinned him in his gaze. "And I have something you want."

"You said that in your letter as well, but what could you possibly have? Money? Technology? Immortality?" He let sarcasm drip into his voice.

"So you think."

The elevator opened, and he led James down the hall, stopping in front of a glass wall. "I imagine you know what this area is."

"Yeah, it's your hydroponics right? Oxygen reclamation." James looked inside at what appeared to be a huge greenhouse. "Why?"

"Come to where I'm standing and look."

He reluctantly moved closer to the other man, looking down the row of plants, trying to figure out what Andross was trying to make him see. Standing about thirty feet away, on the other side of the glass, was a woman, holding a potted plant and smelling a flower, smiling. He looked at her, and felt his breath catch, disbelief filling him. It wasn't possible. He had held her as she had died, as his heart had snapped, but this was a body he had memorized every facet of, that he could have recognized in his sleep…

He went to move forward, to call out, and an iron grip clamped his shoulder. "No." Andross said softly. "She will not know you."

"How? How did you…" He whispered, one hand on his chest as it ached, watching as the young woman put the flowers down, completely oblivious to their presence on the other side of the glass. As he watched she stroked her hair back, a movement he had memorized, had taken no small pleasure in watching. Then her back was to him and she moved farther down the line, kneeling and looking at a bottom rack of plants. His heart throbbed, and he nearly cried right then, both hands on his chest now. "How?"

"Answer that yourself. What is my expertise?" Andross looked at him, and watched the diamond shatter, leaving just a man, just a heartbroken man. This was the true James McCloud, how he had been for thirteen years, and never let anyone see.

"Cloning." James said in a numb voice, leaning on the glass, staring at her. Realization sunk in and he turned to Andross. "You… you… how did you get her blood?"

"Post mortem sample." Andross studied his fingernails absently. "Taken just after she died. I kept it, for my own reasons, and brought her back a week ago."

"… at the age she died."

"Cloning isn't perfect. You can youthen people when you clone them, but you can't age them well. She thinks she's 28."

"Does she know who she is?"

"No. I told her her name was Marisa and that she was someone dear to me."

"Marisa…" He cupped his face in his hands, trying to resurrect the broken pieces of his mind. "Andross, why did you show me this?"

"I told you I had something you wanted."

James snapped his head up, staring at him.

"I know you never recovered after the death of your wife. Not even with therapy. You were almost discharged." Andross crossed his arms. "Correct?"

"… Yes. Correct."

"I know you never got into another serious relationship. I know that locket you wear has a picture of her. I have something you want, McCloud: a second chance with the one woman you ever loved."

"But you said she doesn't know me." James said, voice weak.

"No. But that is her mind. If she fell for you once…" He let it trail off, let it be implied what he meant. "She's… like a daughter to me, now. Even after just this short time. But she was brought back for a purpose." He locked James in his gaze again. "I will let you know her if you sign a contract with me for the war. You can stay on this command cruiser as personnel, and leave after the war, no strings attached, with or without her as the situation requires."

James stared at him, in shock.

"I have something you want, McCloud." And Andross left him to stand there, entering the greenhouse and calling out to the woman. She stood and smiled at him, flying to his arms in a glad grin, talking to him happily. Andross grinned back, no heat, no lust, just appreciation, affection. James leaned on the glass, watching this, and felt a single tear trail down one of his cheeks. Andross was right.

An hour later Andross came back, and found James sitting with his back against the glass, more composed now, arms crossed and clearly deep in thought.

"Well?" Andross asked quietly.

"You want me to be a noncombatant. And in exchange… you'll let me talk to her, get to know her, whatever. Am I right?" James asked, looking at Andross.

"Yes."

James stood slowly. "Do I have to give my answer now?"

"No."

"… Can I speak to her? For a few moments?"

Andross looked at him, and smiled. "Yes. I can allow that. Not too long though."

He sighed, composing himself as he dusted off his legs, and walked past Andross into the hydroponics area. He didn't see her initially, so he wandered up and down the rows, ending up standing nearby watching her replant something and reach for a tool.

She startled when it was set in her hand, looking up at a reasonably handsome middle-aged dog fox who had handed her the trowel. When she met his eyes he smiled a bit, and it was almost timid, and she couldn't help but smile back. "Oh, hello. I'm sorry I didn't notice you."

"That's all right. I walk quietly." He crouched on his heels absently. "I haven't seen you before."

"I'm sorta new. My name is Marisa." She finished with the plant, putting it back on the rack. "What's your name?" She looked at him, hair cascading, and he felt his heart skip two beats in response.

"James."

"James. I like it. It fits you." She stood, brushing off her hands. He stood with her, trying to decide what to say. She put the tools away, paused, and looked at him. "Have you ever had the strangest feeling of déjà vu?"

He tilted his head, and let a little bit of his smile show. "Sometimes."

"Mm. I'm glad I'm not the only one."

James caught Andross giving him a look through the wall of glass, and sighed, looking back to the beautiful woman standing before him. "I hate to make this short, but I have somewhere to be. It was a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand, and when she took it, he swept into a bow and kissed it lightly, making himself not linger, not nuzzle the hand that he remembered running over his fur. Then he left, turning his back with effort and exiting hydroponics, looking at Andross. "How should I contact you?"

Andross pressed a folded sheet of paper into his hand. "On this radio frequency. Make sure you're not being traced by anyone else." When James nodded, he huffed. "Think about this very, very carefully, McCloud. I'll see you back to your plane."


	4. Section 2

James sighed, settling the headphones on and flopping into the chair, guiding his fingers over the stereo remote automatically. He had gotten home hours ago, and now found himself unable to sleep, feeling a strange tangle of haunted and hopelessly turned on. Thirteen years, without a touch, without being held, tormenting himself over the memories of the one person he had really cared about dying in his arms. It had been his fault. He had kissed her minutes before, watching her pull out of the driveway, then the concussion of the blast had enfolded him, knocking him back as the fireball had leapt toward the sky, the broken body of his wife going through the windshield and hitting the road. He had been there seconds later, holding her hand and pleading for her told on until the ambulance called by a neighbor arrived. But with the damage done, it was only minutes later that she had left him, grip on his hand relaxing, his heart shattering.  
They had never figured out who had targeted him at his home. The explosion had done away with any evidence that could have existed, and it never happened again. He had been forced to move on, keep living, because he knew his son depended on him. And that was still the mantra. Keep moving forward, stop thinking about the past, she's gone, all the time you spend blaming yourself won't change that fact.  
And now, something inconceivable. He had seen her, earlier that day, a different name, no memory, but it had been her. Somehow, even with a clean slate, the mannerisms had stayed, the smile, and it had taken every bit of his willpower not to take her in his arms, cry on his shoulder, babble like an idiot. He still wanted to.  
But was it her?  
Was this even right?  
It was illegal to clone anything but basic animals. Cloning a real person was something like five felonies at once. Cloning someone long gone? That was at least the death penalty in the end because the charge list became ridiculous. But Andross' genetic work had never really been legal. He had created some supercrops that now fed half the planet, sure, but he had created brutal living war machines, incurable viruses, and altered living people. His exile had been a mild punishment in comparison to the crimes, and now, in an attempt to muzzle him, he had brought back the one person he knew James had ever truly loved.  
But was it her?  
Was it some elaborate mockup, to trick him into going along with it? He moaned, cupping his face in his hands, trying to drown out his mental tailchasing with music and failing. This was a choice between everything he had and a slim chance of holding his wife again. I'd be starting from square one, having to get to know this new her, gambling on the fact that she'd accept him while he was so much older then she was. But just the mental image of being able to wake up and have her sleeping next to him, just the idea of being able to kiss her again… his fingers curled into fists, body trying to release some of the tension built up inside him.  
But could he leave his team? His son? He'd have to disappear, he knew. There could be no question if he was even still alive to pull this off. It would be complicated, and he'd have to have no regrets. Never look back.  
Then again, he had never looked back. Not as a teenager, being a pirate, not when he'd shook hands with Pepper and become an official mercenary in employ of the Cornerian Government. He had always plowed forward recklessly in life, but until thirteen years ago there had always been some sort of reason for it.  
And as much as he told himself he came home every day, after every mission, to talk to his son and play father, it just wasn't it. His initiative had died long ago.  
He stared at the wall opposite him, playing with the headphone cords. What was he saying? Turn traitor, for a wing and a prayer, a desperate hope? Abandon everything, everyone? He took the piece of paper out of his pocket and stared at the frequency listed on it, staring through it after a second. Work for a mad scientist, a terrorist, a man playing at being emperor of a star system?  
I should get my affairs in order. He finally thought, hugging himself and staring into the distance, turning the volume up on his headset, eyes closing and feeling tears run. Because no matter what I do, there isn't any turning back.

Andross watched the message scroll across his screen, newly transmitted to his ship. He smiled to himself and sat back, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. So, he had been right after all. He had to agree with the message, they would have to be very very careful about how they did this. And he had just the plan to make it work…  
"I just got an interesting message myself."  
Andross jumped, spinning and pushing a hand out, and having to change the trajectory last minute, the telekinetic push wizzing just past O'Donnel and smashing lab equipment. "God DAMN it O'Donnel! You KNOW not to startle me like that."  
Wolf looked over his shoulder at the crushed cat-scan machine, and swallowed, knowing full well that was nearly his chest. "Sorry, my emperor."  
"Now that that rule has been reestablished…" Andross stood, walking over to the machine and glaring, fists on his hips. "Dammit, do you have any idea how much these cost?"  
"Can't say that I do." He admitted. "The reason I came is I just got a message from, well… you know who. He wants to switch sides and says he can give us his wingmen as trade."  
"That's a problem. Conflicts with plans currently in motion. However…" Andross turned to look at him, tapping his fingertips together. "Maybe we can work this to our advantage."  
"… I think I understand what you mean. Should we tell his wing commander?"  
"I'll take care of it. Give the go-ahead to your friend. Don't let on about anything you think he shouldn't know."  
O'Donnel saluted and left, shaking off once he was out of the room. He had felt the mental push brush his arm, ruffle his sleeve. Another half an inch or less toward him, and his arm probably would have snapped under the force of it. Madman or not, Andross was a genius. And that fact, more then anything, kept O'Donnel in line.

"Well, it's official." General Pepper said, looking across his desk at James, who seemed subdued. He was used to it, James went through highs and lows, sometimes saying little, sometimes bright and hyper. "Andross is in military action, and we've got satellite images." He tossed the photos across his desk. "War factories. The President hasn't made any announcements, because he says photographs aren't enough." He stood and leaned on his desk, looking at James, who looked back, waiting. "We need your group to scout ahead for the rest of our forces. Tell us what you see, take surveilence equipment in. And if you can, take out every ground facility you see. The slower they move the better for us."  
James nodded, standing. "Have you sent everything pertinent to the Great Fox?"  
"Yes, I sent everything we have. James…" Pepper met his eyes. "I know how close you came to getting killed last time we dealt with Andross. Be careful on this one."  
James nodded and left the office, passing a hand over his face, sighing out a breath. If only Pepper knew what was really, actually going on, knew how much of an Armada hid on the far side of Venom, waiting for Andross to say the word. If only Pepper knew just how bad it was going to be, and that James wasn't going to be there to help.  
He squared his shoulders and let himself stride, blanking his mind. Keep moving forward. Forget the past. He had something he could move toward now, and that was all that really mattered.  
"So?" Peppy asked, leaning on his truck next to James' aging sports sedan.  
"We're in business." James accepted the bottle of water Peppy tossed to him, twisting it open automatically. "Mostly scouting, but we've got permission to destroy all we can. Usual contract crap, flat fee plus replacement of destroyed craft, and a bonus for every enemy confirmed down."  
"Definitely sounds like the usual." Peppy agreed, smiling. "What do you think?"  
"Not sure. I didn't see a lot of ground defenses, but we should be ready for anything."  
"When do we move out?"  
James sighed. "Pepper wants us moving out tonight, by the looks of how his hackles were up. When he's that edgy it's best not to delay."  
"Hah, I hear you. See you tonight."  
James got into his car and drove away, letting the blur of the highway erase his mind, switching to his exit automatically, pulling into the driveway without really realizing it. After a moment he turned his car off and got out, going inside and having to duck a paper airplane. "Fox!"  
"That one is Bill's fault." Fox replied, leaning so he could see his father. He was sitting on the living room floor, a controller in his hands.  
Bill, who was sitting on the coffee table, another plane half-folded in his hands, winced. "Sorry dude."  
"Bah, just don't aim for my head next time." He threw it back. Falco snapped a hand out and caught it without looking, dropping it in Bill's lap and transferring his hand back to the controller. "I've got work tonight, Fox."  
Fox paused the game and looked at him, that same stone-serious look he had had since eight, when he had figured out how risky his father's job was, how close to death his father danced on each mission. "Should I be worried?"  
James shook his head. "I don't think so." I will never see you again.  
Fox smiled, nodding. "Ok. I won't then." He turned back to the game, and James stood there for a blank minute, leaning his shoulder on the wall next to the door, looking at this person that was half him, his only child, remembering all their talks, realizing just how much he loved his son in the end. That wouldn't die, not even after he died. He knew that. Hell, he'd checked over his will, Fox could live comfortably here for a long time if he died. His life insurance was decent, the house was paid off, his car was paid off… everything was going to Fox.  
He was going to cry.  
He passed by, walking down the hallway to his room, collapsing in his chair and cupping his face in his hands, schooling his breathing, biting his lower lip to prevent the choked sob from rising. This wasn't right. He knew it. But if he didn't do this, he knew he'd let his sights slip in an upcoming fight, let himself get gunned down. Because either way he needed to be with his wife, it was greedy and terrible, but it was like his heart had been ripped out and now he could have it back, but at a horrible price.  
He sat there and listened to the happy laughter of the three teenagers, Fox, Bill, and Falco, inseparable, the three musketeers of their own little world. Falco and Bill were good boys, no matter what anyone said. If he was gone, they'd keep an eye on Fox, and he knew it would eventually work out. They'd probably follow him to Star Fox, pick up the silver jackets and fight beside him. He and Fox worked similarly, had much the same causes. If he couldn't fight the war, Fox would.  
James rubbed his eyes, thinking, and felt a smile. Best he didn't tell Andross this little factoid, he decided. Maybe his 'death' was not in vain after all… not that it mattered. He had to do this.  
But first, dinner eh? He glanced at his watch. He even had time to properly prepare some stir fry. Make the last evening with his son an enjoyable one, at least.

"Why the hell are you always almost late to your own launches?" Pigma bitched, watching James walk onto the space cruiser.  
James felt one of his fists curl, and forced his hand to relax. He knew full well what was going to happen tonight, but Pigma had no awareness of his knowledge. He'd get his chance later. "What's it matter if I'm "almost" late?" He lifted an eyebrow. "That still means I'm on time, doesn't it?"  
Peppy laughed. "Well, he has you there Pigma."  
Pigma scowled, and James just shook his head and walked to the bridge, giving the ROB the go-ahead to launch and reminding him to stay out of the line of fire. ROB needed no encouragement on that, he knew that they had no idea what they were going up against, and large ships could pick the small fast-attack cruiser apart with little to no trouble. But James knew that wasn't going to happen: Andross had guaranteed no harm would come to his cruiser tonight.  
God I am such a back-stabbing bastard… James mourned, watching his wingmates come onto the bridge. I know Pigma's worse, but I'm so sorry Peppy. If you only knew how I really am. You'd kick my ass. And he had to smile at that thought, in spite of himself.  
"We good to go?" Peppy asked, glancing at him.  
"Just waiting for clearance." James dug a CD out of his pocket and dropped it into one of the computers, hitting play. "Let's do this thing."  
Pigma scowled again when the grinding metal/alternative blasted the bridge, and the Great Fox lifted and launched, hitting warp the minute it was out of the atmosphere.

"We're clear." Peppy reported, pulling on his flight helmet as they entered the launch bay. "ROB did a planet scan and has the target coordinates waiting onscreen in our planes. Should be cut and dry."  
"It's never cut and dry." James replied, climbing up the ladder and swinging into his fighter.  
"Hey, I can hope, can't I?"  
He had to laugh, buckling in and flipping the appropriate switches as his Arwing closed around him, the three planes readying for launch. "We all good?" He asked, tapping his mouthpiece.  
"All green." Peppy said.  
"Let's get this over with." Pigma said.  
"Clear to launch." ROB intoned, and one after another they blazed into space, then cut into the thick polluted atmosphere of Venom.  
James sighed, queing up more grinding alternative as he broke through the cloud layer. "Drop to deck." He said over the radio, plunging his plane nearly straight down and pulling up at the last minute, his wingmen close behind, watching as the terrain detail came up on their screens, giving distance to target.  
How long are they going to give me?  
James broke free from the hilly terrain and lunged straight for the very empty installation, destroying building after building, filling the air with black choking smoke. It was pretty much useless to do so, Andross had fed his government a location that had abandoned almost a month. They were doing nothing by destroying this place.  
"James we have incoming." Peppy said, adjusting his mouthpiece.  
There you are.  
James flipped his arwing around and charged the oncoming fighters headon, gunning without aiming, exchanging a look with their wingleader as they passed. O'Donnel, the one eyed wolf, Andross' escort. He stared back, and nodded once. A millisecond of understanding. I'm with you. Then the Venomian squad broke, and it dissolved into the blur of war.  
Even if they hadn't been given instructions to not shoot him down, he could have avoided their shots easily. He only shot to warn them off, Peppy was not going to die here. The smoke filled the air, and he lost himself in it, letting his hands release the controls as Pigma faded in behind him, turning to take one last look at Peppy. Goodbye.  
And Pigma fired.  
He heard Peppy scream in rage, suddenly understanding, as he released the eject controls, snapping into the atmosphere and diving down, back into the smoke, disguising his presence before his chute opened. Then his descent stopped so suddenly his back felt like it had broke, breath wheezing in his face mask, watching as well as he could through the smoke as Peppy fled, Pigma joining Star Wolf.  
He drifted down, releasing the chute and landing easily, walking away from the burning buildings, picking the radio up off his vest and changing the frequency. "I'm on the ground." He said into it. "I'm not injured."  
"We see you."  
An engine rumbled, and he turned, watching the ATV pull up and the back door open. A hand was held down, and he accepted it, climbing up and waiting for the door to seal to take off his mask. "So, does he know?" He asked, accepting the water bottle from Andross.  
"Pigma? Not yet." Andross replied, handing him a Venomian uniform and gesturing toward a changing curtain.  
James felt a smile crawl into his eyes. "Good."

Pigma was laughing, walking across the docking bay to join Wolf. "I can't believe I actually got him! They always said he was the best, and I actually got him." He was grinning. "So, does that prove I'm good enough for you, Wolf?"  
"We shall see." Wolf rumbled, crossing his arms. God, this guy makes me sick. He glanced at Leon, who only nodded once. They all knew something was about to happen, and stepped back as one. It wasn't their business. Hell, they agreed with it.  
"Guys? What, do I smell?" Pigma laughed again, but more uncertain now. "Guys?" Then a finger tapped his shoulder firmly, and he turned, looking into the eyes of one he thought was dead. "Wha-wha?"  
"Hi, asshole." James replied, and let his anger flow, his fist smashing forward. Pigma tumbled to the floor, staring up at him, gaping. "They indeed always said I was the best." He said darkly, stalking forward, watching his former wingman scramble backwards, sputtering. "That includes hand-to-hand combat!"  
"James, I… I didn't mean…"  
"Oh, don't give me that bullshit, Pigma. You meant to kill me. I wasn't able to pay you enough and to you that's a killing offence. GET UP!"  
"James…"  
"Get the FUCK UP!"  
Pigma scrambled to his feet, bringing his hands up in a fighting stance, backing away as James began to circle, eyes burning. "James, what the hell? You're in a Venomian uniform…"  
"Indeed. You forget, Pigma. I'm a mercenary too. Defend yourself. If you can."  
Wolf could only watch as James sprang into action, and Pigma was helpless against the onslaught. James knew several forms of martial arts, including the types taught to soldiers, and applied most of it here. In two blows, blood had splattered from the corner of Pigma's mouth. In two more, he was on the ground, nearly crying because his left elbow was shattered. In two more, he was unconscious, blood pooling around him, James standing above him shuddering, breaths still coming fast.  
"Holy mother of God." Andrew said numbly.  
"Yummy. He's definitely well trained." Leon was tapping a dagger on his chin thoughtfully, staring at James. "God, and no remorse at all."  
Then in a sudden move, James wheeled to stare at them, fists still curled, and they all stepped back again, that glowing rage hitting them like a solar flare. "You are next if you ever, ever decide to try and fuck with me." James said in a snarl. "That goes for all three of you. GET ME?"  
"Shit man. Chill. You're with us." Wolf blurted out.  
"You fuckin' wish." Then James was gone from the docking bay.  
Wolf looked in the direction of Andross, who was standing next to the shuttle they had come in on, watching this with crossed arms. Andross had a twisted grin on his face, shaking his head as he walked around Pigma's body toward them. "Make sure he gets to a medical bay fairly quickly." Andross said simply. "We will need him during the war." When Wolf nodded, Andross left.


	5. Section 3

Once in the elevator, James leaned on the wall and slid to the floor, looking at his bloodied knuckles, unable to believe he had just done that. Pigma had been his friend for years, his comrade, they had saved each others' lives.  
He tried to kill me. I even knew it was coming.  
He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped away the blood as best he could, flexing his sore hands. Somehow, punching Pigma had been like punching brick, no matter how overweight he was. He huffed, leaning his head back and staring the ceiling. It was done. He was legally dead and on the other side, wearing a Venomian uniform. He had just beat the unholy bullshit out of someone who used to be his friend.  
God, who am I anymore?  
James drug himself back up before the door opened, looking at the printout Andross had gave him, then flipping it around, then again. Ship map his ass, more like ship maze. Where was his room? He stood there, scratching his head, and sighed. Now he remembered why he hated large cruisers.  
"… James?"  
He jumped about three feet in the air, turning. "Uh. Hi, Marisa." He said weakly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. He hadn't wanted to run into her this soon, he wasn't really ready, but here she was, smiling at him curiously, only a few feet away.  
"I've been looking around for you the last few days." She remarked.  
"I'm sorry, I wasn't here. I just got back." He smiled weakly. "Um, look, I'm not used to this ship. I'm hopelessly lost. Do you know where, um…" He showed her the sheet of paper, wanting to hit himself for how badly he was screwing this up. So much for dignity!  
She took the printout, reading the room number. "Oh, you got off a level early silly!"  
Dear god. So much for intelligence as well!  
"It is a really strange system, it took me three days to figure out how rooms are coded here. Don't feel bad." She handed it back to him, smiling. "Come on, I'll take you there."  
"Thank you." He said in some relief, some dismay as she grabbed his hand and yanked him back into the elevator. It took a moment for that to hit his conscious mind, that her hand was in his, and he held it back for a second. It was her hands, the hands he remembered… He shook off a bit, preventing his mind from going too far into his memories.  
"So what do you do on this ship anyway?" She asked as they got back off the elevator, still leading him by his hand.  
"Well, not much right now. I'm a noncombatant. I'll probably end up in strategy or deployment or something."  
"New guy eh?"  
"You could say that."  
"I can relate. Oh, this is it!" They stopped in front of a door, her taking the paper back from him. "Andross must like you. You've got a private room."  
"Purely professional relationship I assure you." He said weakly. "He's an odd duck, so to speak."  
She blinked at him, then smiled. "Yes, yes he is." There was along silence, during which she realized she still had his hand, only inches from him, looking up at him. It was comfortable, almost… familiar. He was older then her, by at least ten years she guessed, aging well but silver starting to fleck in along the bottom of his muzzle, aged jean-blue eyes looking at her softly. She looked back for a second, and got uneasy at the depth in his eyes. He looked so sad, like ten thousand tears hadn't been shed, but so tender, like…  
She dropped his hand. "I'm sorry, I…"  
"No. It's ok. Thank you for showing me. I'll try to remember where it is." He mustered a weak smile. "And for future reference, where's a mess hall?"  
"Oh, uh… back to the elevator we took, two floors up, straight ahead."  
"Thank you again." He took her hand back and kissed it again, the slightest of touches, breath whispering over her hand. "I will probably see you later."  
"I imagine so." She nearly whispered, and fled down the corridor to the safety of the elevator, pressing her back against the wall, looking at her hand. She could still feel the warmth of him exhaling, and it had made her spine tingle.  
God, what was wrong with her? This ship was full of men, many of which seemed very sweet, many of which were younger and better looking then James McCloud. Andross had told her she was 28, and she had accepted that as truth, she looked like she'd be about 28 when she stood in a mirror. So why be drawn to someone who seemed to be at least 35, probably closer to 40?  
Because no other man had looked at her like she was their entire world, their entire soul. Really it probably meant something was bent in his head, Andross had said that there were some rather messed up people here, but that they wouldn't hurt her… or maybe he wasn't messed up, just liked women? She huffed, shaking off. She'd try to ignore it, she decided. But she would ask Andross about him.  
James closed the door and leaned on it, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, bonking it repeatedly. Stupid idiot! He had made a fool out of himself at the worst possible time. But her touch… he hugged himself, he knew those hands, they had pulled him close, held him tight, touched him softly. He let out a shuddering breath, mind swept by the memory of her over him, her hands propped on his chest so she could look down at him, hair draping. He remembered the heaving rhythm of his breathing, her whispering call, how finally after fighting for so long he had found peace, unity. Love. And a month later, she told him she was pregnant…  
His hands curled into fists, electricity riding his body for a few seconds. Dammit, enough of that! Don't think about that now, not now, take it out somewhere else… He looked around, and seeing the door, opened it. A bathroom, with shower included. Thank god. He blasted it to cold and stripped, stepping in and leaning into the icy flow, shivers countering his heaving chest, letting discomfort drive lust from his body. Enough. Even if she decided he was worthy… it may be weeks, months before he finally got to spend all that built up tension, and he knew it.  
He turned off the water and shook, sending droplets flying everywhere, drying off and looking for something to exercise in. Sure enough, the dresser was full of clothing in his size, and he changed, making the terminal in his room give him directions before heading for the nearest recreation area.

"James McCloud? HERE?" One of the pilots gaped, staring at Wolf, who shook his head.  
"Workin for Andross, you believe that?" Andrew replied. "And get this: if any of us who know leak to Corneria about it, he's got the death penalty instated. And he'll personally carry it out."  
"Your uncle is a bit… crazy, man." Another soldier said.  
"Yeah, I don't get it, but he was deathly serious…. Whoa, quiet…"  
Everyone turned, watching James enter in exercise gear, look around, and walk over to a punching bag. He had cords trailing from his ears: apparently he had managed to bring a personal music player on board. He was nodding as he stepped into a stance, and started working out, each strike sending the punching bag swinging back, and he worked it into his rhythm.  
"He fucking scares me, man." Andrew finally said, looking at Wolf.  
"I imagine that is a smart fear." Wolf replied quietly, watching every move James made. That combat engine, tuned. Why was James McCloud here? What did Andross have that he wanted? He wanted to find out. He still wasn't fond with the situation. It was like having a ticking bomb on board with an invisible timer.  
James closed his eyes, spending all the testosterone he could on the punching bag, then giving up and moving to the empty floorspace meant for sparing, bowing to no one and going into his move routine, one pattern flowing to another. Eventually he sensed his airspace was disturbed, and stopped in cat stance, opening his eyes and looking at Wolf, who stood nearby with two bo staffs. He lifted an eyebrow, and caught one automatically when Wolf tossed it to him, stepping onto the floor warily, then circling. James straightened and also circled, staff under his arm and behind his back.  
"Brave man, considering you saw what I did to Pigma." James said by way of greeting.  
"You looked like you needed a sparing partner." Wolf replied.  
"Maybe. You any good with these?"  
"I prefer chain weapons, but I'm fine with polearms."  
"Good enough! ATTACK!"  
Wolf wasn't prepared for James' speed, and had to block at the last second, the two leaning into each other and glaring into each other's eyes. Then they pushed away from each other, and Wolf tossed his eyepatch away, letting James see his white damaged eye.  
"Who gave you that?" James asked, spinning the staff.  
"Long story." Wolf lunged, only to get parried away, and the two locked into endless blocking and parrying. It didn't take long for Wolf to realize that James was working with the beat pumping in his ears, and took a chance and broke the beat, trying to strike James. But he was alert, bending backwards and watching the blow go over him, then striking back, tripping Wolf.  
James laughed and pulled the headphones out, looking down at the younger man. "You think I got absorbed?"  
"Damn it." Was Wolf's only reply, glaring up at him, and burst out, "Why are you working for my Emperor?"  
James stood there, then huffed, tossing the bo to one of the others who had been standing watching them. "O'Donnel, if you really think of that man as your Emperor, you're much more screwed up then I thought."  
"But that's my point! You don't!"  
"He and I have a business deal. That's it. When the war ends, no matter how it ends, that deal comes to a close." He offered his hand to Wolf, scowling when it wasn't taken. "Take it O'Donnel. I'm not giving you a second chance."  
Wolf blinked, gaping when he realized what was being implied, and accepted James' hand, standing. "So you aren't on our side at all?"  
"Not truly. No. But I'm not against you either." He touched his brow with his hand and left the recreation room, tail swinging easily behind him.  
"The hell was that all about?" Andrew asked, joining Wolf.  
"I'm not sure." Wolf admitted. "But I think… maybe it was trust."

"Andross?" Marisa leaned into the lab cautiously, and smiled when she saw him in the middle of the lab, surrounded by drones, which were sending harmless laser beams at him. One by one they were crashing to the ground, this scientist able to dodge and weave, air blurring as telekinetic blasts took out one after the other. This was his version of aerobics, improving on his powers day after day through practice. She laughed and clapped as he bent to the side and flung both hands out, sending two flying to shatter on the walls.  
"Marisa! It's ok dear, I'm almost done…" One more strike-out and the last three combusted in midair. "There. Now how can I do for you, dear?" He smiled at her, that same caring smile she had seen when she had awoke on this ship.  
"I wanted to ask you about someone actually." She said, hopping up to sit on a desk, watching as he ordered a cleaning robot to take care of the mess.  
"One of the ship staff? Well it's only a chance that I know them, I can't keep track of everyone." He took a drink from his coffee mug.  
"He says you know him. A James McCloud?"  
He almost dropped the mug, looking at her, and managed a smile. "Ah, ran into him again eh?"  
"Yes. I helped him find his room. He was lost." She kicked a foot, looking for words. "I was hoping you could tell me about him. He gave the impression you two were at least well acquainted."  
"Not sure about that, but we do know some things about each other." He took another drink. "He's a good man, and a great soldier. One of the best in the system, hands down."  
"Then why isn't he actually fighting for you? He told me he was a noncombatant."  
"He's got other talents then fighting. I don't want him killed." He said delicately. He had never really explained the other side of the war to her, and getting into James' past would be difficult to do. "We have… sort of a gentlemen's business deal, him and I."  
"Well, is there anything I should know about him?"  
"Well, he's a fairly stable individual if that's what you mean. Depression sometimes, that's the only thing he was ever diagnosed with. There's no reason you can't associate with him. Why?"  
She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't know. He just seems really eerily familiar. And the way he looks at me is weird too. Like he knows me but isn't letting on."  
"I can't help you there." He set down his mug. "But I can tell you this. In all my years of brain research, I'm fairly sure that there is such thing as racial memory. And there's also such thing as soul mates." He spread his hands helplessly. "Total and utterly defying reason but existing all the same."  
"Are you implying something?"  
"Oh, hell Marisa, I don't know what I'm implying. I suppose I'm saying if you feel like you know him, maybe you did at some point." He set his hands on her shoulders, rubbing her upper arms softly. "Look, you're more like a little sister to me then anything else. I just don't want you hurt, and I don't think McCloud would ever hurt you in any way. But if you want to know more about him, you're really better off asking him yourself."  
She sighed and nodded, covering his hands with hers. "Thanks. Heh, you don't think he's too old for me?"  
"Sweetheart, I'm not worried about that."  
She nodded and hopped off the table. "Are we really going to war?" This was a flat, serious question.  
"Well, not this ship. This is strictly a command vessel. But my armada… yes, it will be. Don't worry about it. As it stands, they don't have a chance in hell."  
She managed a smile and left, going to the elevator and waiting for it to come. Well, that had done nothing to settle her uneasy. It didn't explain why James would look at her like that. And why had Andross hinted at the whole 'soul mate' thing? Did he think that she and James possibly were?  
She got on the elevator and hovered her hand there, then hit the floor so she could go to hydroponics. She'd work up the guts to speak to James later, she decided. They had time, right?


	6. Section 4

James looked up when there was a knock on his door. He had been laying on his back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, letting the music from his player erase his thoughts. His muscles were weary, the exercise had had the desired effect, he was too tired to bother in anything else. "Who's there?" He asked, pulling one of the inner ear headphones out absently.  
"It's O'Donnel. You got a minute to talk?"  
He picked up the remote and keyed the door locks. "It's open now, go ahead."  
After a moment the door opened and the younger man stepped in, rubbing the back of his neck and looking awkward. "Not sure where to start." He admitted.  
"Well, sit your ass in the only chair and think about it. I'm not going anywhere." James didn't bother sitting up, still staring at the ceiling.  
Wolf pulled the desk chair out and sit in it backward so he could lean his arms on the back of the chair, tail hanging down, staring at the older man. "I guess I'm just not sure how to take your presence. My soldier's instincts say you're nothing but trouble. A bomb waiting to explode, as it were, especially since you threatened me in the docking bay. But at the same time, you come off as a completely stand-up guy. Part of me wants to believe you're not going to do anything but hang out here during the war."  
"So, you want to talk and decide if I'm trustworthy. Is that it?"  
"Yes."  
James grunted and sat up, hanging his legs off the edge of the bed and leaning on one arm, looking at Wolf. "How old are you?"  
"W-what? Why the hell do you want to know?" Wolf jerked back like he had been slapped.  
"Just answer the question, O'Donnel."  
A long silence, then he said in a begrudging voice, "I'm twenty."  
"Good lord." James let himself fall back again, legs still hanging off.  
"What?"  
"You could be my kid. Now I feel completely old. My son is two years younger then you."  
"… You have a kid?"  
"Yes. I do."  
There was another long silence, and Wolf sighed, propping his chin on his arms. "I would love to know what my Emperor has that made you abandon everything you had." He finally said softly.  
"Everything I had?" He dug out his car keys from his pocket, spinning them on his finger. "Millions of dollars in debt? A lonely life? Yes, I have a son. But he'll be more then fine on his own. Besides… kicking Pigma's ass was worth it. I have the feeling that was a lot longer coming then I'm aware of." He tossed the keys past Wolf onto the desk and sat back up, propping on both his arms this time. "Besides, what does it matter what my motivations are?"  
"If I don't understand your motivations, how can I trust you?"  
James stared at him, at the eyepatch, the stance. He had always been able to read people, stare right through them and turn the pages of their lives. It was an erratic talent, Peppy had wiseassed before that maybe he was a latent telepath, and James had nearly decked him for it. He counted that he was perceptive. "Your father did that to you, didn't he?"  
Wolf jerked back again, visible eye widening. "What the fuck!"  
"Your eye. Your father did that to you, didn't he?"  
"Why would you…"  
"Because you got more scared of me when you found out I was a dad. Given you're allowed to have maybe a little bit of professional fear over me, considering you saw the treatment I gave my former wingmate. But the only reason you're not shaking in your shoes is because you've schooled yourself to never, ever show fear to anyone." James popped his knuckles one by one absently. "The trick is O'Donnel that is nearly impossible to hide shit from me. I'm very, very good at my job."  
"Boy, you're humble."  
"No one's ever beat me. Pigma won because I let go of my controls and let him." James replied matter-of-factly. "If I'm at my peak and I lose, then I will bow to that person and let them be the best. But that's not the point, because I'm right, aren't I?"  
"What's it matter if you are?"  
James stood and turned his back to O'Donnel, then pulled his shirt up. Wolf gaped, staring at his ravaged back, thin scar marks going from below his beltline to up across his shoulders. The fur hadn't grown back in. He was a scar map, a reverse tiger on his back because of it. After a moment James let his shirt back down and turned back, almost falling onto the bed and contemplating the younger man in front of him. "Trust, right?" He said simply.  
"Chips, dips, chains, whips?" Wolf asked weakly.  
"HA! Torture scars. Makes you think of your buddy Powalski in a whole new way doesn't it? That's why I exercise with a shirt on. I hate people staring at them."  
"You were tortured? Why?"  
"God I wish I had a cigarette…" James stared at his trembling hand, huffing, then gaped when Wolf promptly offered him one. "I quit years ago. I shouldn't."  
"Take it man. What's it matter? We're all going to die. It's just a question of how soon."  
"Sounds like a smoker's motto." He took it and accepted the light, snorting out the smoke in a cough. "Ugh, been too long…" After a couple moments his lungs remembered the habit, and he sighed as nicotine rushed him. "The problem with being a spearhead solution, which is basically what StarFox is, is if you're captured you're on your own. The government will deny any involvement." He blew a smoke ring automatically, propping his elbows on his knees.  
"Shit, no kidding? Sounds like I have a better job then."  
"Ha, well, we shall see. Basically I was young and got caught behind enemy lines. They figured they could break me, make me tell them why I was there." Another smoke ring. "Back then I figured I was immortal. No way I could break right?" He laughed weakly. "It's a really bad idea to tell a torturer to bring it on."  
"Ouch."  
"Yes. Lucky for me, in this case I did have backup, and it arrived in the form of Peppy Hare in heavy armor with a grenade launcher. He was just in time. I had lost a lot of blood. I almost had to be carried out. It took months to heal all the damage done." He wove the cigarette. "Old history. Your turn."  
"Great." Wolf took off the eyepatch and turned it in his hands, sighing. "There isn't a whole lot to tell. My father and I got into a lot of fights on and off. We never agreed on anything: school, politics, economy, you name it. The house was a warzone. Then I say I want to go into the military, and he says he's going to make damn sure they don't take me."  
"Your eye."  
"You should have seen him. I didn't even feel what happened to my eye."  
"Uh-huh. How'd you end up working for Andross?"  
"Well, without binocular vision I wasn't going to be allowed in the service. I begged and pleaded for some way around it, I wanted to go into the air force, you see. But how can a one-eyed man fly a plane?" He laughed weakly. "I was standing outside the recruitment office, broken, no idea where to go, and this older man walks by me, stops, and looks at me. I didn't know at the time that it was Andross, sneaking back from exile somehow to recruit. All I know is this older voice said, 'something wrong son?', and everything came out over coffee. And he said 'if you'll train harder then anyone else, I'll let you fly a plane for me.' Done."  
There was a silence, and James smiled. "Father figure."  
"Eh?"  
"The reason you serve Andross is because he stepped in and held out his hand at just the right time. Your father was useless to you, so you took the next best thing."  
"You're a complete asshole." Wolf looked away.  
"Yes. But I'm right. And let me tell you something, Wolf. He's a really bad choice."  
"What, you're better!" Wolf snarled softly, not even phasing James.  
"Did I say that? No. Stand down, Wolf. It's ok. When it all comes down to it , you can trust me. You have no reason not to." He flicked the burned-down cigarette down the room's garbage chute. "Thanks for the cigarette."  
"… no. No thanks needed." He stood to leave, hesitating at the door. "James?"  
"Yeah, what?" He had flopped back again, resuming staring at the ceiling.  
"Do you think we could be friends?"  
James lifted his head to look at him. "It's possible."  
"Hm. Well, whatever you're looking for here, I hope you find it." Then he slipped out the door and was gone.  
"Mm. Poor kid." James sighed, shaking his head. He knew he had been a little blunt and brutal with Wolf, but maybe it had been enough to break in Wolf's head, make it obvious what he was doing. He doubted it, but hey you never know. He stood, pulling his other headphone out and staggering to the bathroom. As much as the nicotine had helped, he couldn't stand the smell of cigarette smoke anymore, and set the room to vent as he turned the shower on.

Andross leaned a shoulder on the doorway, looking at the disgruntled pilot, who was glaring at the cast on his elbow. He was almost looking forward to this—almost. "Morning, Pigma."  
"Andross!" Pigma stood, gesturing at the cast. "Look what the asshole did to me! Why the hell is even here!"  
"He's working for me." Andross shrugged mildly, stepping fully into the room.  
"And don't you think you could have told me he was changing sides too?"  
"No. The illusion was necessary to assist in James appearing to be dead."  
"Huh, well, wait until his boy finds out he's still alive."  
"Well, I won't have to about you spilling the beans, do I?"  
Pigma didn't say anything immediately, and that was all Andross really needed to know. He slammed his hand forward, and Pigma was blown across the room and pinned against a wall like he had been crucified, gasping for air as his fractured ribs screamed.  
"100 pounds of pressure on your chest right now." Andross said quite mildly, hand still out, like he was pushing a door open. "You see, Pigma, it's quite important that those on the other side think he's dead. And if you're going to go blab to them, well, I might as well just kill you." When Pigma stammered protests, he sighed and increased the pressure. "150 pounds now. I can crush you like a bug, and don't think I won't." He made a fist and swung his arm, slamming Pigma into another wall and pinning him there as well. "So you aren't going to say a damn word. To anyone. You're going to go through this war and act like you killed him. Hell, brag about it for all I care. But you aren't going to mention he's alive to anyone. Do we have an understanding?" When the fat pig nodded, Andross dropped him and walked away, Pigma still frantically nodding behind him.

James walked into the mess hall, running a hand through his shower-mussed fur. A ripple of silence passed through the hall as everyone looked up, then people started getting out of the way, letting him get to the breakfast line. He just smiled and shook his head: obviously word had gotten around about his encounter with Pigma. Oh well, he was hungry so he couldn't complain. The food actually looked decent too, so he loaded up a tray and wandered the tables absently, looking for a place to sit.  
"Hey old man!"  
He turned, preparing to take offence, then wound down when he saw Wolf waving a hand, strolling over. "Morning Mr. O'Donnel."  
"You can call me Wolf you know." He shot back, pointing a fork at James. "Sit your happy ass down and eat."  
"I would, but I think your copilots are scared of me." He eyed Andrew, who was leaning away from him.  
"He's scared of everything, sit."  
"I am not!" Andrew snarled at Wolf, who just looked at him and shook his head.  
James sat easily, looking at Leon, who looked back at him with mellow, half-open eyes. "Man, nothing rattles you huh?"  
"As far as you know." Leon smiled, slurping milk. "So what are you going to do on this ship?"  
"Not a whole lot." He crunched bacon contentedly. "Andross has me listed as noncombatant, so I'll probably be doing a whole lot of nothing."  
"Sucking useful air."  
"As you will." He picked up his fork and pointed it at Leon. "I understand you pull double duty. Pilot and interrogator."  
"Who told you about it anyway? I don't recall informing you I'm a torturer."  
James cut his pancakes, silent for a moment, then just said, "It's your eyes. I've seen eyes like that before."  
"On another torturer, I take it. I also take it that he wasn't on your side."  
"Indeed. Let's say I earned my scars." He shrugged. "Career soldier, you know how it is."  
"I'd rather be a career interrogator."  
He swallowed, and pointed the fork at Leon. "Now, you know, there's therapy for that."  
"Where's the fun in that?"  
Andrew choked on his drink, swallowed roughly, and sputtered to Leon, "You are one really fucked up dude."  
"Yes, I know. And I like it that way." Leon finished and pushed his tray away, taking out a deck of cards and shuffling. "Same thing?"  
"We play poker in the mornings. There's nothing to really do until we ship out." Wolf explained to James.  
"Awesome. I'm in." He swallowed more pancake absently, then jumped when arms settled on his shoulders. "What?" He looked up and backwards, and came almost nose to nose with Marisa. "Little lady, you almost got thrown on the table. Don't do that."  
"Ha, little indeed." She gave him a noogie, making him sputter, and grinned at the others. "Morning, boys." They said good morning, obviously enjoying watching her torment James, who was helpless against it. "What's the card game of the day, still poker?"  
"Yeah. Did my uncle ever teach you?" Andrew asked, finishing his meal and pushing the tray away absently.  
"He says it's unladylike." She made a face. "He taught me chess, won't teach me poker. It's unfair."  
James just looked back at her in mild shock. The only games he remembered Vixy playing were scrabble and jenga. Poker? Her? He shook off, sighing. "Jump in, we could try to teach you as we go." He offered, rolling a pancake and snarfing it. She drug a chair over and wedged herself between him and Wolf. They shifted over so she fit better. "Know these guys well eh?"  
"Not many people get face-to-faces with Andross constantly. They do, and so do I. It went from there." She stole a piece of bacon from him. "I play chess with Leon sometimes too."  
"She's not bad." Leon remarked airily.  
"I only beat you like half the time." She stuck out a tongue at Leon. "Ok, who's dealing?"  
"I will." Andrew took the cards from Leon, who produced chips from somewhere on his person. "We don't play for real money." He told James absently, reshuffling automatically as he knew Leon to be a card sharp sometimes.  
"No?"  
"No. Most of us don't have cash anymore. So it's for the glory."  
"Good enough. Hold'Em rules?"  
"Indeed." He dealt easily.  
The game lasted nearly an hour, others coming over to watch absently, James watching out of the corner of his eye as Marisa picked up the rules with ease, laughing and jesting with the guys. She wasn't Vixy, that much was obvious. Vixy had been gentle, feminine. Marisa was aggressive, leaning toward tomboyish attitudes and hobbies with the possible exception of her love of flowers. She wasn't Vixy, she was her own personality, and as James watched her break even with Wolf in the game, he couldn't help but decide that it was a good thing. She was new, she was different, and he liked it. And that startled him. Hadn't he gone through this whole mess to be with his wife?  
Oh well.  
He won the second and last game by a thin margin, raking over the winning chips with a laugh, catching an odd look from Marisa when she flopped her cards down. He caught her on the way out of the galley, frowning. "Did I do something wrong?"  
She grinned, and told him her hand. "I won that game."  
He blinked. "Then… why did you fold?"  
She tapped the end of his nose. "You smiled." Then she was gone, leaving him standing there in something close to a stunned stupor.


	7. Section 5

Wolf wasn't surprised when James showed up in the gym later, ears under headphones as usual, nodding along to a quick beat. He watched as the older man crossed to a weapons rack, picking up a coiled chain and moving to the center of the fighting area, tapping his foot. Seemingly cued by the music, he began to move, the chain swirling around him, a dance of death, clashing through the air like a whip.

All other action had ceased in the gym except for a few single-minded types, the others finding the beat and clapping with it. It didn't matter he was Star Fox's commander, that he was the best. He was accepted. Wolf shook his head in amazement, watching the much older man move smoothly. Feeling another presence beside him, he glanced at Marisa, who was dressed to do her exercise on a treadmill. Her jaw was slack, eyes wide as she watched James discard the chain and move to a sword, song change apparently.

"Oh my god." She finally said.

"He's good." Wolf said mildly.

"I knew he was a good soldier, but how can he move like that?"

"Training. Lots of it."

James had his eyes closed, absorbed, flinging the sword to Wolf without looking. Several of the soldiers gasped as Wolf blade-caught it inches from his chest. Wolf shook his head, watching James pick up another sword and strike a ready pose, beckoning, eyes barely open. "This is getting to be a habit." He remarked, stepping onto the floor, voice loud to be heard over the headset.

"You're probably the only one good enough."

"Arrogant ass."

James laughed. "But you didn't argue."

"Right. Let's go." Wolf lunged, and their blades met, the younger man not surprised when the beat came through again. This time he didn't bother to break it, it was more pleasurable to work with it. How often did you meet a master? How often could you spar with one with no fear? He wasn't surprised that James had his eyes closed, opening them only occasionally, or that the older man was smiling, just a little. He was a soldier because he couldn't be anything else.

"Hand to hand?" James asked without breaking their fight.

"Go."

Both threw their swords, one landing in the rack the other landing solidly in a weightbench pad and sticking, backing off and going into their respective stances. No one laughed when James settled for crane stance. There was a long pause, then James attacked first this time, letting himself be parried, settling into the groove again… or until Wolf got a hit and hit James' lower left ribcage.

The fight broke, James staggering away holding one side of his chest, leaning on his knees and gasping as fire licked through him. Wolf yanked out one of his earpieces and started talking to him, it made no sense to James, confused gibberish, and he wove mindlessly with one hand to shut the younger man up as pain saturated his brain. He dropped fully to his knees in a drunken daze, trying to shake it off. It was several minutes before he found sanity again, taking out the other earpiece and looking up at Wolf with a shaky cough.

"What the fuck was that?" Wolf asked bluntly, crouching next to him. "Looked like you were holding your heart."

"Not exactly. Old, old wound. Four shattered ribs. Bone shards in lung… I don't have any bone there anymore."

"Shit."

James pulled up the shirt, showing Wolf the irregularity on his chest. "Rack and pins. Metal. Not exactly resilient to strikes."

"Sorry man."

"You didn't know." He looked up when a shadow passed over him, and was promptly horrified when he saw Marisa. Just what he needed, her knowing his Achilles heel, his one major weak point on a body he worked on endlessly to be strong, to be resilient. "Um…"

"No bone?" She pulled up the shirt the rest of the way to look at the spot, trying to ignore the sculpted muscle around it. He wasn't over muscled, he was just gorgeous, and she almost hit herself for thinking that.

"Love of god woman, are you trying to send him into cardiac arrest?" Wolf asked in amusement as she pushed him down, looking at the mark curiously.

"Now why would that happen?"

"Help…" James looked at Wolf, jittering under her hands.

Wolf laughed, pulling Marisa up. "God girl, leave him be."

"Hey! It's interesting!" She said defensively. She had been able to feel the screws and pins under his fur, narrow artificial ribs. It had felt good, her hands on him for any reason, and she shook off.

James, meanwhile, had rolled away awkwardly, pulling his shirt back down. "I've got torture scars on my back too, but I don't see you pinning me to look at those." He grumbled, staggering to his feet, glad he had been able to control his body. That would have been embarrassing.

"Maybe I should." She stuck out her tongue, and was shocked when he bolted from the room. "What the hell is with him?" She asked, looking at Wolf.

He spread his hands. "You ask me like I know."

James leaned in the elevator, covering the old wound with his hand, breathing hard. He could still feel her fingers rubbing over it curiously, he had wanted to gasp and arch into the touch, not wondering about why she'd be curious about an old war wound. The same electricity he had felt years ago with Vixy, but somehow stronger now, maybe from his simple desperation. He managed not to moan, the technician in the elevator with him was already staring at him. He managed a weak smile, staggering out when the elevator stopped, going to the room he was using.

He stripped and staggered into the shower, leaning his forearms on the wall under the showerhead and letting the water pound his back into oblivion. He sighed, letting his eyes close again, and let a smile slip as he remembered the extended sparring session. Damn, that O'Donnel kid was good. He had been worried for a split second his sword throw was going to skewer the younger man, but he had caught it, and their fight had been pretty exhilarating.

Too bad he hadn't met Wolf before Andross. He would have fricking adopted the kid, legally an adult or not. Wouldn't that have made Fox's day? He laughed, leaning his forehead on his arms, imagining it. Just what he needed, two military gung-ho teenage sons! One was probably quite enough…

Then his mind turned to what had happened before he had fled, Marisa beside him, hand on his chest curiously, inches beneath his pecs, and he shuddered rawly. This was torture, no other real word for it. To love her, love her so much…

Love her?

He blinked as water dripped in his eyes. Love her? Just her? Not desperate carry-over from his wife, just her, just this tomboy who played poker, who teased him and touched him and made him insane, who hadn't even known him what, two days? Three maybe? He laughed weakly, shaking his head, he was so easy, to fall for her like that. He hadn't stood a chance. Those eyes…

How much longer would he be able to play at this? He sighed again, rubbing the damning wound on his chest. He loved her. Now was the gambling part. Would she love him? This aging battered soldier, so much older then her? Who knows, he thought, letting out a ragged breath. In the mean time, he'd be tortured, daily, hourly. He'd deal with it.

_Please, let her love me…_

It was almost an hour later when a knock sounded at his door. He lifted his head to look at it, sprawled on the bed in jeans and nothing else, and sat up, keying the door unlocked with the remote absently. "It's open."

The door opened, and Wolf stood there, in full flight uniform, eyes full of an odd raw ache—fear? "Just thought you might want to know… we're going to war, now. Andross is going to make a speech over the intercom in a few minutes."

James stared at him blankly for a full five seconds before that sank in.

"Look at them, guys." Pigma said in a pleased voice, gesturing out the window at the fleet, which was spreading out in formation in front of the command cruiser. They were on the observation deck. Exactly one level above them, Andross was on the command deck, his voice still echoing over the intercom and radio. "He's not a bad public speaker for a scientist."

"He knows what people like to hear." Leon said mildly, not at all moved by the view of the fleet—he knew better.

Wolf said nothing, looking down at his rank badges. James hadn't said anything at first, going over to where his uniform jacket and fishing in one of the pockets, then stepping over and pinning another badge in line with the rest, casual, like it belonged there. Then those piercing blue eyes had focused on his one, and he had said, "Watch yourself." That had been it, and he had been out of the room and down the hall before he had stopped to take a good long look at what was pinned to him.

He wasn't familiar with every last badge in the Cornerian military, but he knew this one. It was the badge version of the Metal of Courage, one of the very few highest honors dealt within the military, on equal level with the Metal of Honor. James had given him his badge. When had James earned the Metal of Courage? What had he done for it?

And why had the older man given him the badge, which obviously meant so much, represented so much sacrifice?

"We can't lose." Pigma said, voice confident, arrogant. Wolf fought the urge to punch violently sideways and break his cheekbone. "Not with this fleet."

"Thanks, you jinxed us now." Andrew grumbled.

"I don't believe in that sort of thing." He looked at Wolf. "I understand we're being transferred between ships by the end of the day."

"Yeah, some fast attack cruiser, I forget the name." He replied in a distant voice, popping the knuckles of one hand absently, staring out the window blankly. No more sparring with James, he guessed. "The Great Fox of our side."

"Don't say that name." Pigma shuddered. "I hate that ship."

"What's happening to your arwing, now that you have a wolfen?" He glanced sideways, popping the knuckles on his other hand.

"It got transferred planetside already, the hanger base or something." Pigma shrugged, clearly not caring what happened to his old plane.

"Well, isn't that a sight."

All four jumped and looked at James over their shoulders, who walked in like he owned the place, moving up even with them and looking out at the fleet, hands on his hips. He huffed, shaking his head. "A terrible beauty is born." He said softly, voice even, but clearly forced.

"I get sick of people speaking in riddles." Andrew said quite plainly. "Nice quote, but what do you mean?"

"That." He pointed out the window. "That force. It's your victory… it's the destruction of Corneria City. The death of millions. The fall of democracy." He turned to look at Andrew. "A terrible beauty. Don't you agree?"

"Sappy bastard." Pigma grunted, and choked when James merely looked at him.

"Good luck. You'll need it." He ended mildly, and left the observation deck, clearly going up to the command deck.

"He's creepy." Andrew shook off.

"Yeah. Among other things." Wolf said, watching James go, almost sad.

James stuck his hand on the command deck, giving Andross a wave with two fingers to catch the scientist's eye. Andross nodded just barely, finishing his speech a few minutes later and waving the pilot forward. "You're not supposed to be on the command deck, McCloud. What do you want?" Andross asked, hands on his hips.

"What happens to me now?"

"You stay here. This cruiser isn't going into combat."

"You're staying here as well I take it?"

"Indeed. If we need to we'll just move behind Venom. The Cornerian forces can't track us there." He shrugged. "I've made certain of that." There was a pause, Andross sizing the not-much-younger soldier up absently. He looked good in the uniform, but he figured James could probably make rags look stylish if he tried. "So, how bad are Cornerian military doctors, hmm? Marisa told me you're short several ribs on the left. Not even good pins!"

James winced noticeably. "Did she now?"

"Stop by my lab later, I'll fix you up."

"You'll forgive me if I decline."

"No I really won't. Be there after you eat dinner. Or I'll send some guards to find you."

James glared, and Andross glared back, the two locked in a silent stare down. The rest of the personnel on the command deck got uncomfortable. Andross was unquestioned in his force, for James to try to brush his demand away was unthinkable. James eventually just huffed and turned, walking away without saying a word.

"Upstuck little shit." Andross said out loud, shaking his head.

"Sir… is he always like that? So insubordinate?"

He turned to look at the woman addressing him, who was working her fingers in front of her nervously. "Yes, Anna. Ever since I met him… about nineteen years ago…" He smoothed a hand down her hair as he sat, and she tucked her knees up to her chest, wings folding back. His personal bodyguard, rarely seen away from the command deck, rarely seen at all really. No one asked about her background—they all knew already.

James slid down the side of the elevator, staring into space. For the first time since this had started, he was suddenly nervous. Andross wanted him to come to the lab, saying, quite specifically, 'I'll fix you up.' That was a terrifying prospect, because Andross could mean his ribs… or he could means something else entirely. He jittered, remembering the lab he had helped storm years ago, the claws almost hitting him, the creatures, some dead, some dying, almost all based on what had once been people…

"James?"

He jumped, finding himself suddenly staring into Marisa's eyes. "You have a talent for catching me in off moments." He said sourly, basking in the soft orange scent of her shampoo.

"How long have you been sitting in an idle elevator?" She asked gently, crouching in front of him, looking at his haunted, troubled eyes, the look deep down unchanged from when she had first met him.

He looked at his watch, and blinked. "A whole hell of a lot longer then I expected to be." He looked back up, nose to nose with her, and subconsciously curled his watch hand into a fist as he felt that charge rise between them. She blinked and jerked back, surprised, and he sighed, tilting his head back. "I guess I should explain why I'm sitting here?"

"If you want. I'm going to hydroponics. We could talk there." She finally said, stunned her voice was clear, fighting the urge to rub her nose. What the hell had that been? Some sort of massive static charge? It was rather dry on the cruiser as of late…

"Sure."

She reached behind herself and hit the level button, sitting down across from him for the ride, which was spent in silence, her staring at him, him with his head still tilted back against the wall, eyes closed. When the elevator stopped, he stood abruptly, so fast she barely caught the flex of his muscles, and held a hand down to her. She took it, and they walked into hydroponics together, her trying not to read anything into this whole ordeal. James was an odd man, best to write it off to that.

"So why were you sitting in the elevator?" She asked, getting out plant food absently.

"Long story." He willingly slung a bag of soil over his shoulder, following her down the aisle, managing not to feel shame as he watched her tail swing. "Your friend Andross scared me, basically."

She stopped, looking at him. "_Scared_ you?"

"Yeah, why?"

She stared. "Something scaring you… It just seems like nothing would you scare you, James."

He laughed out loud. "My dear, you would be surprised."

"Apparently. Well, what did he do? Playing Emperor or not, he seems harmless to me. Always has." She gestured for him to set the soil down, mixing plant food with water automatically.

"It's about my ribs. He said he wants to fix me up, quoting him." He shifted uneasily. "And as that would require opening me up, I'm a little uneasy about it. But he's not giving me a choice."

"But that's wonderful! It seems like it really hurts you, even just to touch."

"Yeah, but… I don't trust him. I've seen some of the other things he's done."

"Like?" She glanced at him curiously as she fed the plants.

He mentally kicked himself. "Better if you asked him."

"Oh, all right."

Silence reigned for almost an hour, working together with the plants. Marisa settled into it so easily it alarmed her, James was easy to work with, their hands brushing randomly as they worked together, at one point his tail brushing down one of her calves, almost making her gasp. What was it about him, she wondered, that put her so on edge? She shook off absently, blurting a question to break the silence.

"Uh, Andross remarked you have a kid?"

He startled, looking up from what he was doing. "Oh, yeah, yeah I do. A son."

She rubbed the back of her neck, looking away, suddenly feeling painfully awkward. "Sorry… just curiosity I guess."

"Hell, it's not a bad question." He leaned back against a row of plants, brushing off his hands. "Here, look." He took his wallet out of his back pocket and took off the top photo, which was the most recent one, handing it to her. "That's him. Picture is about a year old, but he hates cameras. It's a nightmare getting a good picture of him."

She took the wallet photo and stared. It was a candid cut down, the younger boy turning to face the camera and actually smiling a bit. He looked a lot like James, but softer somehow, she dared to say prettier but that wasn't it either. It was the eyes, he didn't have James' sharp eyes. The boy in the photo was in his late teens, wearing a tank top and jean shorts from what she could tell, lightly cut musculature, military dogtags in evidence. The smile was smug, what Andross probably would have called a 'shit eating grin' even if it was more subtle. "God, he's a cute kid." She heard herself say, passing the picture back.

"Thanks." James smiled, tucking it back in his wallet. "He's a double-handful. I had a hell of a time keeping him in line."

"Had? Did he…"

"No, no, he's still alive and well. He's on Corneria."

She blinked, then her face changed. "Oh god, not in Corneria City…"

"Yes. The city Andross is going to bomb into oblivion." He said grimly. "But don't worry about it. Fox won't be there when it happens, or his friends. They're bright kids, and scrappers at that." He huffed, shoving the wallet back in his pocket. "I'm sorry, it's just really easy to get wound up about what's going to happen."

"It's all right. It used to be your home. I can understand." She sighed. "I don't really have a home. I don't remember one. Just this ship."

James looked at her, and felt his heart ache, wanting to give her a home, but knowing that was really beyond his power. "I'm sorry." He finally said again, backing up a step before he held her, before he kissed her.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, it's just… never mind." He wove it away as best he could, looking away from her, trying to brush his hands off again. She stepped up to him after a moment, turning his face toward her, and there was a frozen moment as his heart thundered, looking down at her. "Don't…" He managed to say weakly.

"Don't what?" She asked, frowning, fingers still lingering on his muzzle. She shivered when his hand came up, brushing fingertips lightly along her cheekbone, trailing in her hair, leaving tingling lines. "James…" It barely left her lips, eyes fluttering closed as he drew her into a careful chaste hug, resting his jaw on her shoulder, closing his eyes as his arms settled into the small of her back. She curled her hands around his ribs carefully, returning the hug, sighing.

Marisa tucked her face into his chest, just under his collar bone, turning her head and listening to his heart pound. It was a strong, solid beat, a booming base drum, and it was comforting, lulling. He shivered under her touch, finally nuzzling her neck softly, trying so hard to control himself, to not let his impulses run away with him.

"James?" She finally asked faintly after a few moments, leaning her weight into him absently.

"You make me wish I was young again." He finally whispered, choking back a sob of pure need. "You are so beautiful."

She tried to look him in the eyes, but wasn't able to, the position negated it. "You aren't that old." She finally said.

"Too old for you." He admitted out loud, sighing.

"That's opinion. This feels too, too right."

"This is going too fast."

She blinked, thinking about that. "Yeah, probably."

"You don't care?"

"Not right now."

He let out a sigh, but a different one, and tightened his grip ever-so-slightly. She turned her head so her face leaned against his neck, and they stood like that for a few minutes in a silent union.

"James McCloud, report to the lab please." The voice on the intercom was unnaturally loud in the quiet of the hydroponics room, and both startled at the sound of Andross' voice.

"Bloody bastard is early." James rumbled, looking at his watch over one of her shoulders. "I was supposed to meet him after dinner."

"Maybe something came up."

"Or maybe he's got cameras on us." He let her go reluctantly, pressing a timid kiss to her forehead. "Listen, thank you. I really needed that."

"No. My pleasure." She heard herself say, and watched him leave, his walk different, almost lighter in a way, and hugged herself, silent in her confusion.


	8. Section 6

Andross looked over his shoulder when James walked in, and almost smiled. That soldier's stride. James didn't march, he strode as if listening to some ass-kicking music in his head, like he owned the world, the gunslinger entering the saloon, the knight strolling onto the battlefield. "I'm amazed. You actually came."

"You're not giving me much choice." James replied bitterly.

"Hah, well, that probably means you don't want to linger, so let's get this over with. Come here."

James did reluctantly, sitting on the examination table Andross indicated, fighting the urge to sulk like his son did sometimes. "What is this about?"

Andross' reply was to run a medical scanner down the left side of his chest, and the picture came up on a screen. James winced, staring at what was an x-ray view of his body. His heart, miraculously, untouched, the lung very obviously scarred, and the ugly view of those four ribs. A few inches of normal bone on either side, the bridge between spanned by the slim metal bars, thin with the hope that they'd flex better. It was obvious the metal bars were feeling their age.

"Military doctors." Andross grunted, crossing his arms and staring at the x-ray. "For the love of science James, why did you let them do this? It would have been easier to rebuild your ribs with a regen kit."

"But a lot more expensive." He replied sourly. "At the time, I was piss-poor. Pennies in my wallet. The only reason they were willing to work on me is because I got the wound in a military accident. It was their fault, and as I understand it they were a lot more concerned with saving my lung."

"And I'm supposing you weren't the great hero then."

"I'm not the great hero now."

Andross gave him a look, one eyebrow cocked. "Maybe you're not the arrogant ass I thought you were. Strip waist up."

"Not until I know exactly what you're going to do to me."

"Fair enough." He pulled a cover off a tray, revealing syringes, medical tools, and a sealed cryo container. "I plan on issuing locals and fixing your ribs. Unless you argue, then I knock your ass out and fix your ribs. Your choice."

"Do you actually know how to do that?"

They locked into another staring contest, and after many long moments James sighed softly, shrugging out of the uniform jacket and then stripping out of the two shirts, folding them and setting them aside. "Happy now?"

"Rarely. But I understand that's you too." Andross gestured for him to lay down, and he did, turning and flopping back, lacing his fingers behind his head and staring at the ceiling purposefully, making himself not react when the first needle jabbed him, the burning cold creeping through flesh and veins. Surface painkiller, he knew, he'd been under the knife so many times now it almost seemed normal. "So. How many times did you chamber a bullet for yourself?"

James glared at him. "Ok, that's just getting personal. Do we need to talk about my suicide attempts?"

"Do you have something better to talk about?" Andross did the eyebrow lift again. "That you need to get off your chest?"

He sighed, focusing back on the ceiling, not even feeling the second needle, trying not to think about the fact that sometime soon he'd be bleeding everywhere. He just hoped that Andross was doing what he said he was. "You have a point."

"I know I do. Psychologically speaking, you're very intriguing. The fact that you've pulled off so much in spite of the chronic depression is impressive." Andross set the needles in the disposal container, checking his watch, lining up the small sharp blades. James' eyes fluttered closed, closing his mind to his body.

"Well, let's see…" James lifted a hand and seemed to be doing long addition in midair, eyes still closed. "Probably fifty or sixty times by now."

"And I bet the gun never actually got aimed in your direction."

"I came really close about… a dozen times." James admitted. "I mean, my will was solid, had a note written, appropriate music playing on the headset, all the stupid clichés of suicide. And something always interrupted me."

"Like?" Andross twirled a scalpel through his fingers like a butterfly knife, already having gloves on, watching his watch count down. He had always known that James was a broken, broken man, the fact that he was still alive was a surprise really, and hearing it all come out was something he'd been wanting to hear for a long time.

"Fox. 'Dad, where are you?'" He imitated his son's voice, a child's voice, and his voice cracked as tears nearly came. "That can break your heart, that situation, and I'd always have to rush to cover my tracks, destroy the note, put the gun away, shut the stereo off, whatever. How could I explain that to him? He inadvertently saved my life so many times… I mean, I can't be that selfish, to off myself and leave him alone that young."

"And when he got older?" Blade through skin, so easily. James didn't twitch, away from his body by painkillers and sheer will. Blood ran, and Andross' hands automatically went through the motions of surgery, keeping the blood flow down as much as possible. Still no reaction from the man under his knife. He shook his head, going deeper, and saw the dull glimmer of the bars, wincing when he saw the screws. A reason to destroy the Cornerian military, right here. This shouldn't have been allowed to happen, this weakness.

"He still did. I'm… I don't think I'm a bad father. I love my kid." He paused. "Peppy is really the only one who caught me in the act. Once. That was horrible."

"Let it out." Andross rubbed blood away, tracing the metal bars, running the cuts farther down James' side.

"Why do you want to know this?"

"Because I'm insane and so are you. We can keep each other company."

James opened his eyes just slightly, looking at the older ape. "I am not insane."

That earned him a dry chuckle. "Just keep talking. Keep your mind off what I'm doing."

"That was the one and only time I tried to go through with it while on my ship. We'd had a bad time on a mission… this was maybe two years ago." His face flickered, pain, but not physical. "And as Fox was in his teens, I snapped and went into one of my more horrible depression streaks. Locked myself into my room, shoved my headphones on, and started writing. I must have written ten pages, the gun right there, but I wanted someone to understand when they found me. That this was a long time coming, that I'd had it… I sort of forgot that Peppy has a talent with both hacking and lockpicking, and was so absorbed in what was going on in my head that when I turned away from the paper and picked up the gun, turning it on myself, he was already there to aim it away from me, eyes on mine. I broke down." James hissed, feeling a sting of pain as something snapped. "Damn!"

"Sorry. It's going to happen again. Can't do anything about it." Andross set the tool to the next screw and snapped it, the bar popping away from the broken edge of rib bone, and James hissed again, chest raising under Andross' hands. "Please be still." He heard himself beg, and was rewarded when James settled back down.

"He let me cry and took my gun, ransacked my room and confiscated everything I could use to hurt myself. Then he threw me on the bed, ripped out my ear phones, and told me to think about my actions for a while because he was going to read my note before trying to talk to me. He stood there, leaning on my desk, paper lifted. I just stared at him blankly, I couldn't see his face, and when he finally lowered the paper, he was crying, staring at me in shock. I'll remember this the rest of my life, he said, 'You always act so happy.' And I said, 'That's right. I act.' We talked for hours, well on into the next day. He burned the note, and told me I should stop cutting this shit and just talk to him next time. I never got close again after that. I mean, I used to think about it a lot, but… OW!"

"Stop your whining."

"Bastard." James opened his eyes enough to glare and regretted it, the swath of red spreading out from his side was pretty noticeable. He pressed his eyes closed again, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Andross dropped the metal bars aside, glancing at the raw edges of the ribs, and popped the cryo container open with a hiss. "Home stretch." He promised absently.

"What's my blood loss?"

"Relax, I'm careful about that. You've hit the point of a normal donation." He glanced at the contents of the container, picking up one of the dull grey spheres. It shifted of its own will in his hand, and he shook his head, touching it to the end of one of James' severed ribs. James gasped in shock as the bone structure rebuilt, the rib reforming and connecting with the other broken edge in less then five seconds. "One down."

"What are you doing?" James choked out.

"Using something I made years ago." Andross replied, doing the next three ribs one after another, watching the bones form and connect smoothly, the new bone strong, scarless. He sealed the container again and set it aside, tracing the new ribs with his fingers with a smile. "Good as new. Now to patch you up."

"Yes, please do."

Half an hour later James was sitting up, smelling of antiseptic and drinking syrupy orange juice, watching Andross dispose of the used equipment, carefully prodding his still numb ribcage. No screws, no metal? The ribs flexed just slightly under his fingers, the common spring of a normal, real ribcage. "What is this made of?"

"Bone." Andross took off the gloves, smiling at him. "Neutal-gen regrow substance. My own creation."

"Hmm. Can I stand?"

"Sure, watch your balance though."

James hopped off the table and inhaled deeply, pleased when his ribs didn't give the once-normal twinge. He smoothed his fingers over the skin, finding no stitches or sutures, just unbroken flesh. "What the hell?"

"I'm a genius." Andross smiled at him. "And I'm very good at what I do. Medical was my first field, not agriculture, not cloning."

"Hm. Well, I have renewed confidence in your abilities." James checked his fur for blood and started shrugging back into his clothing. "Happy?"

"A bit. Go eat dinner."

James sighed and turned to leave. "Yes father."

He wasn't surprised when an empty pill bottle ricocheted off the back of his head. He chose to ignore it.

James was on his way to the galley when he passed a viewport and stopped, staring. The command cruiser had pulled away from Venom a bit, and Zoness was plainly in view. Explosions could be seen wreathing the planet, he could see the cruisers firing planet-siege cannons, the squadrons chasing off and killing Zoness' meager defensive air force, and he leaned on the wall, staring out the view port with his breath caught in his throat.

Even from how far away they were, he saw a small agile cruiser flying through the mess, four fighters plowing the way ahead of it. Defense squadrons were butchered, the few small cruisers from Zoness ripped apart, defensive orbital guns blown. He knew it was Star Wolf, doing their job, and he sighed, rubbing his eyes. Zoness, the paradise planet, a resort world. They had no real military, just what was on loan from Corneria and Katina, they had never needed it. Who would be so cruel as to attack Zoness, where scarcely 4 of the populous personally owned a gun not including cops? Andross, plowing away all resistance so his ground troops could move in afterwards. James dropped his hands to his sides, feeling angry and having no direction to put it to, so he turned away from the painful sight and continued to the galley, knowing now the real price of his turncoat actions.

He said nothing to anyone at dinner, eating quietly alone, ignoring everyone as they parted for him, leaning on the table on one elbow, staring off into the distance, not even really aware of how good the food was. Andross didn't scrimp on some things, that was for certain, but he only barely registered it, taking his tray to the washing station and catching a passing soldier by the shoulder. "Is there a target range on board?"

"Yeah, but lasers and hull-safe rounds only." The stag looked terrified, and James sighed.

"That's fine, where is it?"

The stag told him, and he stopped by his room to collect his gun belt and went directly there, picking up some hull-safe clips and stepping into the booth, putting on a headset and loading the two guns. His son went for laser pistols, he held there was no substitute for the heavy-kicking guns he used—Desert Eagle .50s. Destructive devices, and he took no substitutes.

He also still held them gang-style, barrels flat and clips pointing out, blowing the crap out of target after target. He knew by logic that holding the barrels flat was a bad choice, the kick would make you miss your target, but he barely noticed the kick of these guns anymore, so logic wasn't enough to change years of ingrown habit.

After six clips he stopped, looking over his shoulder. A small cluster of soldiers were standing behind him, obviously watching curiously. The gun range was nearly silent except for the booming of his guns. He sighed and spun them absently, flicking the safeties on as he tossed them in the air, then holstering them cross-armed. Only then did he take the headset off, turning to look at them fully. "Can I help you?" He asked pointedly, and they all took a step back reflexively, even if he had holstered his guns.

"Just impressive, that's all." One said finally, fidgeting. "I mean, we don't see many shell guns around here anymore."

James looked down at the spent shells that had accumulated around his feet, and almost laughed. "I hold lasers are for wimps who can't take recoil, but I come from a somewhat interesting background. Besides, there's no substitute for true damage dealing."

That caused some discomfort as they all looked at each other, and finally the one on the far left, a muscular tiger, spoke up. "You realize, of course, that you just called all of us wimps."

"I also realize none of you can do anything about it. Just try me boys. I'm just in the mood for a good fight." James rumbled a low growl and put his headset back on, turning back to the targets and hitting a switch to reset them, cross-drawing the Desert Eagles and opening fire again. He growled when a finger tapped his shoulder, and he turned again, guns dangling in his hands. "What?" He snapped, shoving the headset down. "I'm in a really surly mood, boys."

"We don't like your attitude, McCloud. You act like you're elite, like you're something special." The tiger said, apparently taking on the position of ringleader of the group. "We know you're just bought off by our Emperor. And that doesn't make you anything in our forces. Just a civie, taking up space and air."

"Back the fuck off or face the consequences."

There was a long silence, and James stepped forward out of the booth, setting the guns aside and lifting his hands in warning, lifting an eyebrow. The group, numbering eight, glanced at each other again and almost laughed. Eight on one, and James was clearly not afraid of his odds.

"You can't be serious." The tiger scoffed. "We should put you in your place just as a warm-up exercise."

"Hit me or shut up!"

The badger on the far right moved, a sharp quick jab meant to connect with James' side, but James dodged easily, and the entire group attacked. James wasn't surprised when the tiger landed a heavy blow on his repaired ribs immediately, and there was a frozen moment as they stared at him. He staggered but took it, not collapsing in pain as before, and laughed softly at them. "Sorry guys. That doesn't work anymore." And then he struck back.

He kept himself from going full throttle, like he had with Pigma. Mostly it was dodges and twirls, their blows barely grazing him, his sweeps knocking them down. His blows were precise and hard, and the tiger went down first, skidding on his back and nursing his gushing nose. _One!_ He moved to the badger, dropping to the deck as several hits passed over him, and spun, catching the badger behind the knees. The badger fell, and yelped in pain as one of James' heels came down hard on his chest, bones cracking. _Two! _Then he was up again, whirlwind kicking, and two more staggered back, going down moments later as he followed up with two more blows. _Three, four!_ He went into a waiting combat stance, looking at the remaining three, who were standing there, frozen and terrified. After a long second, he grinned and lunged at them, yelling "BOO!" And as he predicted, they yelped and bolted, leaping their injured friends and scrambling out of the gun range.

He laughed, dusting off his hands and looking at the four, who were trying slowly to get to his feet. "Thanks. I needed that."

"Asshole!" The tiger spat, both hands at his nose, blood dripping on the floor.

"You hit first." He replied mildly, picking up and holstering his guns. "You knew the risks." Leaving it at that, he walked out of the gun range, letting the four injured men sort themselves out.

Marisa rolled over, glaring at the glowing clock with a sigh. By ship time, it was one in the morning, and she couldn't sleep. She didn't even feel tired. She sighed and sat up, brushing her hair back with her fingers and pressing the remote button to key up the lights.

On a ship, there was always staff awake, they were on a three-shift rotation twenty-four hours a day. But all the people she really knew were on day shift, Andross included. She always felt alone when she woke up at night, and sometimes it even scared her. She huffed at herself in annoyance and pushed off the bed, standing and brushing the wrinkles out of the tank top and sweats. Well, she was up, now what to do? She had showered before bed, and didn't feel like running endlessly on a treadmill. She looked at her chess set on the desk thoughtfully, walking over to it and picking up one of the marble pieces. It was an expensive set, she knew intuitively, the pieces carved marble and the board (which folded to become a case for the set) heavy wood. She wasn't sure where Andross got it, but chess had been their first game, before she had even been out of the hospital wing.

She packed up the set and tucked it under her arm, leaving the room and padding down the hallway softly. Andross wouldn't be awake, she knew, and even if he was she didn't want to disturb him. Leaving, of course, only one person she really thought would be willing to play chess with her at this hour of the night.

James startled when there was a knock at his door, sitting up on the bed. He was wearing sweat shorts and that was all, laying on his back staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore his nicotine craving. Damn O'Donnel anyway for giving him a cigarette, anyway. He scratched the back of his head, looking at the clock, and walked over to the door, sliding it partway open and jumping when he came nose to nose with Marisa, obviously in pajamas, a folded wooden gameboard hugged to her chest. "Uh, hi?" He said blankly, suddenly very conscious of his bare chest, and worse, his scarred back.

She blinked up at him. "I can't sleep. Do you play chess?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah I do. You can come in I guess." He opened the door fully and let her by, head spinning. "Why can't you sleep?"

"Oh, I don't know." She sighed, sitting on the floor and setting up the board, then freezing mid-motion when he crossed the room and picked up a shirt from the back the desk chair, staring at his back. The musculature was beautiful, strong shoulders, the long line of where his spine was with the muscles raised on either side, but the scarring was horrible. "Oh my god. What happened to you?"

He jumped when her fingers touched his back, hackles spiking up automatically. "I did remark about the torture scars on my back when we were in the gym." He said over his shoulder. "Those are torture scars."

"Oh, my…" She trailed her fingers over one of the stripes, watching him shudder under her touch. "Whip?"

"Similar idea, a cane lash. Old ideas apparently work the best." He let out a choked laugh. "Listen, uh, this is really awkward."

"Oh, sorry." She dropped her hand and stepped back, and he pulled his shirt on in a record time. "I'm really sorry." She said honestly, hugging herself and looking away when he turned to face her.

"No, don't worry about it." He managed a smile and moved to kneel by the chess set, and she joined him, separating the pieces and setting them up. "You really like chess, huh?"

"Yeah. Andross got me playing, I like it a lot." She paused, setting the last pawn down on her side. "You're letting me have white."

"Yeah, I'm a gentlemen that way." He stuck out his tongue to put across he meant that humorously, settling down Indian-style on the floor. "So why did you pick me to play chess with?"

"I figured you wouldn't mind, and I've been wanting to ask you about a few things." She imitated his posture, resting one arm on her leg and moving a pawn with the other. He studied the board for a split second, then moved one of his own.

"Oh, like what?"

She scratched below one of her ears, feeling awkward. "Well, I've never set foot on a planet before, so… I was sort of hoping you could tell me about Corneria?" Seeing his startled look, she added, "I mean you are from there right?"

"Yes and no. Originally, I'm from Papetoon. Don't worry if you've never heard of it. I've spent the last twenty years easy on Corneria though." He leaned back, propping himself on the heels of his hands. "But yeah, I can do that. What do you want to know?"

"Just… anything. Everything you can remember, good or bad."

So he told her, starting with his first planetfall into Corneria City in an old military shuttle, after the shake-hands with the Cornerian military. She listened entranced, the chess game soon all but forgotten as he told her about the city, the academy, going from there to what he knew about the rest of the planet. He told her about Katina, the mining planets Titania and Macbeth, the water planet Aquas, and lastly, poor Zoness. He told her about the resorts, the sea serpents, the peaceful hippie vibe the whole place had. And he, after hesitating, told her what he thought Andross was doing to it right now.

She stared at him, surprised. "Why would Andross attack a planet that's so low threat?"

"Basic military savagery. Prevents rebels from getting strong holds, weakens the enemy." James sighed, shaking his head. "At least, that's what I think."

There was a long pause, the pair looking at each other, and she sighed. "Thanks. It's depressing though, because I know the planets you describe are not the planets I'll end up seeing."

James allowed a half smile. "You never know."


	9. Section 7

The next day, Andross called James up to the command deck.

James arrived still putting his fur in order, damp and ruffled from a hurried shower. He managed a half salute in between his grooming motions, and Andross managed a partial smile, shaking his head. "What?" James finally asked bluntly.

"Asshole. Take a look."

James came up even with the command chair, looking at the battlefield that stretched out in front of them. It was extensive, probably a hundred cruisers total between the two sides. It was like a laser light show, thousands of fighters everywhere, and he blinked, mildly surprised. "I thought you weren't taking this cruiser into battle."

"Changed my mind last night." Andross replied mildly, sipping at a cup of coffee, eyes only half-open. "And just my presence seems to make a difference for troop morale."

James was inclined to agree, watching Venomian fighters do suicidal charges against Cornerian cruisers. "Looks like a stalemate out there." He finally ventured, glancing at Andross.

"Oh, give it another thirty seconds."

"What happens then?"

Andross just smiled behind his coffee, saying nothing.

"Ship coming out of warp, sir."

James turned to look at the screens, watching the new ship arrive and open three huge fins, and frowned. This wasn't a combat cruiser, he could see the hull taking damage from crossfire even from where he was. So what was it? He glanced at Andross, who mildly made a 'charge' hand gesture, and the aide who had spoken before yelled "Open fire!" over his shoulder.

Then the laser blasted forward, and James stepped back with wide horrified eyes as the laser traced the battlefield. He couldn't help but count as one Cornerian cruiser after another blew, hundreds of fighters getting torn apart in the laser's wake, both Cornerian and Venomian. It seemed to go on for hours, playing in slow motion in front of him, and he almost lifted a hand, almost cried out in agony. A large section of Corneria's space force was being decimated in front of him, and all he could do was stand there and try not to react.

Then the laser shut off, and the battlefield was silent as Venomian fighters limped back to their respective ships. What was left of the Cornerian forces was fleeing as fast as it could for home, leaving behind the wreckage of uncountable ships. James stood there shuddering, then realized that Andross was watching him silently, a sharp, curious look on his face. He glared, folding his arms.

"Why did you ask me to come up here?" James finally demanded.

"To show you that." Andross nodded at the view port. "To show you I mean business."

"I knew that to begin with."

"But you didn't believe it."

James couldn't argue that.

"You see, McCloud… there is nothing Lylat can do to stop my advance. You were bright to start working for me, because in the end it will guarantee your survival." Andross studied his fingernails.

"You wanted to break my morale, is that it?"

"McCloud, for claiming to be a mercenary, you have some unnaturally deep loyalties."

James snarled and stomped off the bridge, hands curled into fists.

Those in the gym jumped when James stomped in still wearing his uniform, tossing off his jacket and shirt without thinking about his scars, shoving ear phones into his ears and winding up the volume to near max, moving to a punching bag and laying into it with all his might, eyes tightly closed and anger still jerking through his body.

What could he do? He was just one man, and even if he rebelled and tried to fight for Corneria, he'd end up killed. The minute he moved for a fighter, Andross would have no problem taking him out of the picture, and he knew it. And the people on this cruiser were fanatical, the chances of him inciting a mutiny was none. He felt caged, restless and trapped, a rabid tiger lunging against the cage bars, claws falling just short of his target.

So it was no surprise that he nearly freaked out when arms snared him from behind, settling around his ribs and a forehead leaning between his shoulders. He started to defend himself, then jerked to a halt when he recognized the hands and arms, freezing and hearing the voice faintly beyond the angry music.

"You're bleeding James, you're bleeding, breathe, calm down… shhh…"

He gasped for air, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, letting himself become aware of his body, and realized that he'd been doing this for a very long time. It was a bad habit, a way he had found to spend his anger but he lost track of it. Peppy had reamed him years ago for running on a treadmill for so long he collapsed in exhaustion, and to him it had only been a few minutes. "Marisa?" He finally heard himself ask blankly, trembling.

"Yes."

"How long have I been doing this?"

"I don't know. I've only been here ten minutes."

He went to move, and she let him go, watching him pull the headphones out, the cords trailing over his shoulders. He stood there blurrily, eyes opening and looking at his hands and huffing. He had broken seven of his claws clean off, as well as broken the skin on his knuckles, and blood had soaked the fur on his hands, marking the punching bag. "Well, god damn it." He finally said, turning to look at her wearily, feeling his chest still heaving, and glancing around. The gym was quiet, most of the others had bugged out completely.

"Would you tell me why if I asked?" She crossed her arms, looking at his hands, then at his face.

"Internal monologues. I lost track of time. It happens a lot, sadly." He flexed his hands, wincing. "Listen, thanks. I probably would have ended up collapsing if someone hadn't stopped me, and these guys are too scared of me to bother." He nodded at the few others in the gym.

"No problem. You should go shower."

"Agreed." He scooped up his shed jacket and shirt, staggering out of the room wearily, and she watched him go, then looked back at the blood-marked punching bag. So much anger. She had to wonder how he dealt with it.

"So, what the hell are we going to do?"

Fox glanced at Falco, who was watching the hologram recording of one of the battles. It was a video someone had sent to them from the front lines, just some random fighter pilot who had had their fighter auto-recording. After a few minutes the recording fuzzed to a halt, it was fairly obvious the person recording had been killed. "We wait." He finally said, leaning on the edge of the projector and watching it play out again, watching Corneria's forces get butchered. "This asshole here…" He remarked, flicking one of the shuddering holographic ships, finger passing through the image. "That's a command ship. That's who's calling the shots."

"Did you just say we wait?" Falco asked, frowning. "In case you haven't noticed, Fox, our home is getting its ass kicked to kingdom come. If we don't do something and soon, we're not going to stand a chance."

"We're mercenaries Falco. If we move without being contracted, we don't get paid." Fox replied dryly. "And have you looked at the debt on this thing?"

"Two and a half million credits." Peppy said matter-of-factly, turning his chair and smiling sourly. "Give or take a few thousand."

Falco winced. "Remind me why I joined this crackpot group?" He glanced at Fox.

"Because the Academy had had enough of you?" Fox grinned, turning off the holograph projector.

"Yeah, fuck off McCloud." Falco scowled, and tossed up his hands. "Ok, so we twiddle our thumbs for unknown amounts of time. What if they never call us up and say "come save our asses"?"

"Pepper will if it comes down to it. That's how it's always been and always will be." Peppy remarked, trying to make Falco back off a bit. "As long as we're around at least."

"You are such an optimist." Falco turned his scowl to Peppy for a few seconds, and huffed.

"It'd be better if dad was here." Fox sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He had such good instincts for this."

"For what it's worth, your instincts aren't bad, Fox." Slippy said, pulling himself out of one of the bridge consols, where he'd been checking hardware.

"Thanks I guess." He looked at ROB. "Keep us on a perimeter patrol for now, I want us out of the action but close enough that we can be at Corneria in under twenty minutes warp if we're needed."

"Affirmative." ROB nodded once.

"A mercenary's holding pattern." Falco leaned on a wall, crossing his arms. "I am so god damn bored."

"Revel in it, because once this starts, we won't even really have time to sleep."

Andross glanced up when Marisa came into the lab, and smiled, unable to help it. "Hello dear, what brings you here this morning?"

"Just wanted to ask you about something." She replied, hopping up and sitting on one of his tables.

"Go ahead."

"I while ago, I asked James why he didn't want you working on his ribs, and he said he'd seen some of your other work." She said slowly. "But he wouldn't tell me what he meant. He said I should ask you." She met his eyes. "What did he mean?"

Andross froze for a second, looking at her, mind racing. At least James hadn't told her, he supposed, but how to explain all this? How to put it mildly? "Well, um, that is kind of hard to explain. You see when I was first starting my career years ago, I was working for the Cornerian government, not independently."

"I thought you hated them?"

"Well, now I do, but then I was a starving PhD looking for a way to get enough money to live on and pay my loans. Any port in a storm as they say, and the stuff they had me working on is a bit a step away from what I do now. Weapons design and testing in fact; specifically mass-damage weaponry other then nuclear powered." He tossed a hand. "Which, actually, is how I met McCloud in the first place. He was younger then, a full-out brat in fact, but a good one. He was a mercenary in the employ of the Cornerian Air Force, and for some reason they thought he'd be a good candidate for actually attempting to use the weapons I made. And he was. He wasn't some run-of-the-mill jarhead, even back then, he's brilliantly smart for a soldier. Hell he caught my mistakes a dozen times, narrowly escaping with his skin on most of those occasions.

But I digress. I got enough approval for my heavy weaponry to start getting funding for things that interested me more, such as genetic work, and slowly shifted my work focus in that direction. Eventually I went independent with it, working with things like super crops, serums for things like diabetes, the like. Mostly altruistic stuff, but the Government still decided it liked some of my darker dealings, and started employing contracts to me. It helped pay for some of my other work, so I went with it, and well… things sort of spun out of control…"

The laboratory, his beautiful laboratory, in chaos as it was stormed by soldiers. The Cornerian government, on a tour of the facililty, had suddenly decided that politically speaking this was a bad idea and had instantly backed out of the contract, stopping payment as well. Andross, already walking the fine line of mental health, had responded in one way: he had walked into the main lab and thrown the master gate switch, allowing his creations, which knew him and loved him, to run free into the city. It had been panic and chaos, dozens had died, more from shock and panic then from the creatures themselves. And then the soldiers had come… And James McCloud had helped lead the charge, and had personally cuffed Andross himself, General Pepper reading him his rights. Andross didn't say a word then, or at the trifuneral, or on the ship to exile. He was thinking, considering a way to recover from this series of mistakes. Of course, there was none, and in the end one viable, attractive alternative had opened: revenge.

"So here I am." He ended, editing out all the details of reality for that dark day. "Not that scary of a thing, is it?"

"It had to have been bad to be an exiling offense."

"Sweetie, forgive me, but you obviously know nothing of politics. The public was angry and wanted a scapegoat. They found me, and since I was in trouble anyway, I was all the easier of a target."

She frowned at him. "I can't help but think you're leaving details out."

"How else can I make a story of two decades last only a few minutes?" He relaxed when she smiled, sighing to himself. "Just always remember, young lady. I did some good things too."

James sighed, looking at the poster now hanging on the wall of his room. He had had someone on the command deck print it for him, and the same person had let him borrow two markers, one red one blue. On it he was tracking the advance of Andross, lines and arrows for the movement of the army, circles on the planets he'd taken for sure. Andross had already pressed halfway across the system, and judging by the formation the cruisers were taking, he was going to hit both flanks of Corneria's forces and crush them in a pincer.

_God damn it._

He checked with the terminal, and stood there a moment, tapping the blue marker against his lower jaw. Then, slowly, he put a blue dot on the map, on the far side of Corneria from the direction of Venom, and wrote beside it 'Great Fox holding?' Only then did he set the markers back on the desk and resume his slow pacing of the room, trying to distract his mind.

He didn't have any options, he knew that, he'd known that when he started this whole thing. He had dropped everything just for a shot to be with his wife again, and it sort of looked like he may be getting that, he loved her, and she was overly kind to him, had hugged him, maybe they had a chance. And now that that was ok, he was finding himself restless, wanting to dive back into the war and try to help out the planet he'd lived on for so long.

_God, am I that much of a bastard?_

He rubbed his sore hands absently, sighing, and swept one foot back, going through sped-up Tai Chi moves automatically, struggling to find that center he had tried to maintain all his life. He had always been called a good soldier, but unlike the soldiers of old he had always idolized, his ability didn't come from some inner strength. He drew his ability from a subtle, teenage rage that had never been lost. His enemies enraged him, and he had learned to funnel that to useful things, like beating those enemies. And when that wasn't enough, he worked out or something to burn it off. He'd never really struck anyone who hadn't deserved it in some way.

He jumped when his terminal rang, chirps jarring him, and he walked over to it, frowning. Message incoming, accept? He shrugged, and tapped the button on the screen, and the little-used touchscreen responded easily, a video feed coming up. "Wolf?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow. The younger man was leaning on a terminal as well, looking down at it. He looked exhausted, the eyepatch was off, uniform disheveled and oil-stained.

"Yeah." Wolf said, sighing. "Wanted a friendly face."

"Ha, well, that's amusing in some light." James drug the desk chair over and sat down absently, staring back through the screen. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I could ask you the same thing, old man."

"Eh, usual bullshit. I was stressed and blew. Almost worked myself to collapse in the gym, hurt my hands." He shook his head. "Your turn."

"Just haven't slept much, and had to do maintenance on my own fighter. That was refreshing, I haven't done that since initial training." He shook his head. "Was Pigma always this annoying?"

James sat back and laughed, long and loud. "Yes."

"How the hell did you put up with him?"

"I ignored him. He's a good soldier, basically, a steady fighter with a little bit of flair. Before he got money greedy, I could always count on him and Peppy to have my back." James shook his head. "But somewhere in there, he got the idea in his head that the money was the only thing that mattered. It was all downhill from there."

"Ending in him attempting to kill you."

"Attempt is the word, it'd take the luck of the devil for him to manage to do it. He knows I'll always be better then him, he hates me for it."

"Modesty much?" Wolf managed a smile.

"I'm allowed, kid. So how are things going on the front lines anyway? I've been keeping track of it, as much as I can."

"Hasn't been very hard. Ever since Andross deployed the Gorgon, the resistance has been minimal for the most part. They've pulled back to try to defend Corneria, but we'll punch through it without too much trouble." Wolf shrugged.

"The Gorgon? Is that the thing with the laser that could destroy a moon?"

"Apt image, it was meant for planet sieges. It's not deployed anymore… I think Andross pulled it back because it suffered like a quarter million credits in damage."

"God almighty. I know that pain."

Wolf looked over his shoulder, then said, leaning closer to the screen, "Between you and me, if this doesn't work we'll all be screwed."

"Say what?"

"Andross told me he's nearly broke."

"WHAT?" James blinked. "That doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

"He's tapped. His war fund chest is down to its last, and while it sure as hell sounded like a lot of money to me, he said he won't be able to run the armada another month at full capacity, let alone enough time for another campaign. We need to take Corneria to resupply or we'll be very badly off."

"Well shit. Sucks to be Andross, because I'm only giving him a 50/50 chance of taking Corneria."

"Will you bet on those odds?" Wolf lifted an eyebrow. "Because from my view, looks like we've got it in the bag."

"Sure. 100 bucks?"

"You got it old man." Wolf grinned. "I will be seeing you after the war."

"You got it."


	10. Section 8

Two days later, Andross' forces hit Corneria.

It was brutal. While over half of Andross' Armada hit Corneria's remaining forces, the remainder hit Corneria itself. Corneria's defense satellites, long needing maintenance, went down in seconds, and land forces weren't far behind. Andross had had soldiers waiting for this, and they hit the ground with a vengeance, knowing full well this was their future at stake.

General Pepper was no fool, and deployed everything he had. All soldiers had been on alert, and the guard rolled out, armed citizens walking with them. Andross' soldiers, well trained and backed up with armor, had been expecting the city to fold easily. It didn't have any built-in defenses, after all, but they hit resistance the minute they hit the suburbs. Ground troops were waiting for them, and so were civilians, picking at them with rifles and handguns. Street gangs, once one of the worst problems Corneria City had, were suddenly saviors, defending their territory from this new threat alongside the cops that had only days before been arresting them. The lines struggled, Corneria City was getting hit the hardest and they were falling, little by little. The air battle above only made the situation worse, planes plowed into buildings and stray shots peppered the streets. The situation in space was no better, Andross' armada was plowing what was left of the Cornerian forces.

Which was when General Pepper hit the panic button, and called the same number he had always called in last resort situations. It had served him well in the past, he figured it would serve him well now, even though there had been almost an entire personnel change since the last time he'd called it.

So, the same day Andross' forces hit Corneria, Star Fox took to the battlefield, numbering four. And everything changed.

James bobbed his head to the beat absently, stepping back and crossing his arms, surveying his updated map. The arrows were getting kind of messy, he'd have to get a second printout made up, but the progress was clear. The Great Fox, moving away from Corneria, and Corneria's armada amassing again. His son had dropped the hammer, and Venom had been pushed back.

Well, he figured it had to be his son. He hadn't actually found transmission records yet, but Peppy wasn't a leader. Fox was by nature. Way he had it figured out, Fox was in charge, Peppy was still a wingman, and Falco had come along—perhaps Bill Grey as well, he reminded himself, tapping the capped pen against his jaw thoughtfully. Who else would Fox have recruited if desperate? Well, there was his techhead friend Slippy, but Slippy was more of a geek then a soldier. Then again, it was Slippy's father that had built the Great Fox in the first place, so hey, anything was possible.

He dropped the pens on the desk and turned the volume up on his terminal. He'd figured out his music player's memory card interfaced with the terminals perfectly, so now the computer terminal was playing music. Surprisingly, no one had complained—though one of his neighbors had told him to put all the music to the ship's shared directories. He had, and hadn't heard anything since.

He glanced at the clock, and huffed, pulling his shirt over his head absently, throwing on sleeping clothing absently. Another late night, no surprise there. When he had heard Venom was having trouble, he had stayed up and watched the ships positions that were being relayed realtime on the terminal. It was more sterile this way, almost like chess, and he had been grinning the entire time. Well, he had just made a hundred bucks, it seemed. Nothing was settled, but it was progress.

He had just folded and set aside the dirty uniform to be washed when he heard a tap on the door. He walked over and opened it halfway, leaning on the doorframe and smiling at Marisa, who looked somewhat confused. "Morning."

"Technically. You know, I could hear that all the way down the hallway." She remarked, arms holding the usual chess board to her chest.

"No one's complaining. Come on in, I'll turn it down."

She did, going over and looking at the system map on the wall as he dialed the volume down to half. "You're following the play-by-plays, huh?" She asked over her shoulder, setting her finger on the dot that was marked as the command ship they were on, then tilting her head, moving it to the blue one in the lead. "The Great Fox?"

"My old ship." James replied, walking over to also look at it.

She looked at him, and blinked. "Ok, now wait a minute. So your 'gentleman's deal...' You turned coat from Corneria? You were a ship commander?"

"Well, hell." He gave her a sour smile. "That slipped out. No, and yes. I was the commander of Star Fox, an elite mercenary group. So by any technicality, I betrayed no one—I merely took a work contract."

"Even though Corneria is your home."

"I was only there with permission. As a mercenary, I wasn't even really a legal citizen." He shrugged. "Things worked out. Besides, it looks like everything's going to be ok anyway."

She looked at him for a moment, processing this. So he was a soldier for hire, that made a hell of a lot of sense. Now wonder she had heard Andross bitching about Cornerian military doctors when she had mentioned James' ribs the first time. But then again, it seemed that a lot of Andross' fleet had been Cornerian or otherwise not Venomian before they had joined up, so James wasn't that different. He just worked for the money instead of the glory.

"Does that bother you?" He frowned at her, worry creasing his brow.

"No. I guess it doesn't."

"Well, that's good then. Shall we?"

They set the game up, going through it automatically—though Marisa insisted that he take the white pieces this round. He was fine with that, both laying on their stomachs on the floor, propped on their elbows, him relaxed, her feet up and kicking absently. He had to smile, it was a little hint of youth from a mind that seemed very mature, and besides, she kept kicking to the beat.

"You don't get to listen to music much, do you?"

She glanced up from the board. "No. No I don't. We can't exactly receive radio stations out here, we're close to Venom right now and something about the space around Venom disrupts things like that, apparently enough so that we don't get any echos off Zoness."

"Sounds like Andross talking."

She chuckled weakly. "Yeah, that was sorta quoting him. It only came up because he listens pretty much exclusively to classical, and I wanted to listen to something else. I mean, I'm not daft here, there's always music playing around this place. CD trading is a mainstay on this cruiser."

"In other words, the metal and alternative I listen to is no surprise to you."

"Not at all. Though I do say at your age it surprises me."

"Thanks. I feel old now."

"Don't."

There was a frozen moment as they looked at each other, and he broke the gaze first, moving one of his pieces. "So I guess that means Andross never taught you to dance, either."

"He says he doesn't dance." She moved one of hers.

"Oh, that's bullshit." James made a face. "For your information, he knows how to swing dance. Take it on authority from someone who's known him a very long time. Now, whether or not he wants to, hey that's something else entirely."

"Swing dance?" She started laughing helplessly at that mental image.

"Indeed."

"And what about you? Do you dance?"

"Not in years. But I used to. I mean, you don't really dance to metal or alternative. You mosh. But I do know the basics of swing, as well as just some normal dancing. I don't think I'm great, but I did passable at parties and clubs." He caught her look. "If that's a hint, in a few games maybe I'll give you the basics."

"Good enough for me."

There was a long silence, comfortable and companionable, as that game ended in a tie and the board was reset, James keeping white since no one had won the last game. Marisa propped her chin on her hand, watching him easily put the pieces back in their places, battlescarred hands moving nimbly. It looked like his hands had already recovered from his overworking himself in the gym, she could see new claws were already forming on the hands where they'd been snapped, small sharp points. She shook off, sighing to herself. What was it about him? Whenever she was with him, she found herself not watching what he was doing, but watching just him.

But then again, she wasn't the only girl on the ship, and she'd overheard a few things said about him in the galley. The line that stuck with her the most was a short one, 'that guy is sex on wheels.' She had found herself more then agreeing, but almost wanting to growl at the other women watching him. She felt… possessive. And that thought that rather scared her.

Her mulling made her feel a little uncomfortable with the situation, but James was absorbed enough in the game he didn't notice the slight change, moving so he was sitting cross-legged then moving one of his pieces. He had to admit, he liked this arrangement. The fact that she was comfortable enough with him to drop in on him at all hours of the night made him feel good about himself—most women probably wouldn't have even asked a guy in for coffee if they'd been in a relationship for this amount of time. But then, they weren't in a relationship, and she wasn't 'most women' by any means. He had to smile, watching as she moved one of her bishops, rubbing her eyes one-handed. "Your eyes bothering you?"

She startled, glancing up to meet his eyes. "No, I'm ok."

He nodded once, taking her bishop. "Check."

She looked at him for a moment, then the board, then back at him. "You did that on purpose!" She accused, pointing at him.

"Did what?" He smiled, trying to look innocent, but a trace of mischief got into it. Ok, so he was caught. He had wanted to throw the game to her—if anything, as payback for her throwing a game of poker to him.

She moved one of her pieces. "Checkmate." His taking the bishop had purposely left his king open, letting her win. Then an impulse took over, and she moved to her knees, leaning across the chess board and pressing her lips to his lightly. He had no time to react, a flicker of question in his eyes, then mumbling in surprise. She was winging it, and was relieved when he returned it softly, one of his hands sliding through her hair and settling at the back of her neck, not restricting, just there, warm and reassuring.

James made a soft contented noise, claws on his free hand skittering on the metal as he made a fist, locking down on his body and rampaging hormones, willing himself not to scare her away, not to be totally aggressive, to just share this soft moment and enjoy it… One of her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he trembled, pulling her across the chess board in one motion. The pieces scattered, and they held each other for a moment, then James broke the kiss to bury his face into her neck, sighing.

"What was that for?" He finally asked, taking this in, her arms around him, her body against him. Wonderful and comforting, he had missed this so much, but even now it was obvious that this wasn't Vixy, and he was fine with it, he still loved it.

"I don't know. Just an impulse I guess." She finally replied, setting her jaw on his shoulder, feeling oddly content. "You've wanted to kiss me for a while, haven't you?"

"Since the moment I saw you in hydroponics, yeah." He admitted, grumbled at an awkward pain, and dug a bishop chess piece out from where it was trapped between them.

"Then why didn't you then?"

He stared at her. "You're kidding, right? 'Hello, I just met you, let me stick my tongue down your throat?' I don't think so. For one thing, Andross would have killed me, right then and there."

She blinked, and laughed, blushing. "I guess that would have been sort of odd. Sorry."

"No reason to apologize." There was a long silence, then finally he sighed and gently kissed her cheek. "Well, chess has rather lost its appeal. Do you still want to learn to dance?"

"Yes indeed."

"All right." He stood and helped her up, stepping over to the terminal and stopping the song playing, bringing up the entire list of songs he had. It wasn't short—this little music player had a very big memory—but he finally chose a few of the lighter songs, oldies, and cued them to a playlist absently. By the time he turned around, Marisa had picked up the scattered chess pieces, setting the folded game board on the desk as he watched. "I will warn you again though, I'm not that great and I'm sort of out of practice."

"You're good enough, I'm sure."

"And that sounded dangerously like a double-entendre." He smiled crookedly, tapping the play button and stepping over to her as a rolling acoustic track started, taking her hands and drawing her to the center of the small room. "Ok, let's start with the basics. Dancing is all about following a beat…"

Time seemed to slow after that. She quickly picked up on the basics, and found that she greatly enjoyed the whole thing, if anything just because James was smiling. It seemed he had rediscovered an old joy, cuing up music with a faster dance beat, still mostly oldies, and it was nearly an hour later that they had fallen into a slower song, her arms draped over his shoulders, leaning into him.

"I'm getting tired, and I hate it." She finally said, fighting the urge to yawn, putting more of her weight on him. "Aren't you tired?"

"I should be." He finally said, holding her easily, nuzzling her. He wasn't going to explain that he couldn't get tired with her in his arms like this, there was too much tension built up deep inside him. "You can go back to your room, if you like. There's no reason we can't make dancing a habit as well as chess."

She didn't reply for a moment, shivering as one of his hands rubbed her shoulders gently. "I don't really want to." She finally admitted, and blinked when she felt his hackles spike up under her hands, then slowly relax back down, apparently forced. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. Not really… Oh the hell with it, ok, let's do it this way." He put her away far enough he could see her face, holding both her hands. "Look, this weird relationship we have, or whatever it is… I'm inept at this. I've been alone for over a decade. So I'm putting this in your hands. It advances when you want it to. Not when I want it to. So if you would rather stay here tonight, I won't argue it. I definitely can't say that I wouldn't enjoy it, even if you were just sleeping beside me."

She blinked up at him, surprised, holding his hands back and trying to think about this logically. He had just given over complete control to her. Why? Surely the comment about his being 'inept' wasn't exactly it. Maybe he was just scared of hurting her? Either way, the ball was in her court, what to do now? She snuggled back into his arms, trying to think, and quickly found out the hard way that logic was not easy to use in this situation. Impulses kept coming up, and she blushed at a few of them, glad James was returning the hold with his eyes closed and couldn't see it.

Damn it. Why did she have to have this amnesia? She had no idea what to do, where to go with this. She had no experience, not even the basics that a normal life would have taught her. All she really knew was that the man holding her was sweet and gentle with her, that apparently in spite of being a mercenary he had a lot of honor since he had put everything in her hands, and that she was drawn to him. Something was right about him, so familiar it was creepy in a way. Maybe Andross was right. Maybe they were soul mates…

James leaned against the edge of the desk, cuddling her in his arms, feeling his tail sway back and forth happily. Giving her that control had let the weight shrug off his shoulders, he didn't feel guilty about this anymore, because he knew she wanted this as well, and that made everything ok in his mind.

"James?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I'm more inept then you are. I don't even know what I want to do…"

He had to chuckle, kissing beside one of her ears softly. "You don't have to do anything if you don't really want to."

"But what if I do want to do something?" She finally asked, tucking her face into his neck.

He was quiet for a moment, busily trying to keep a hold of what small amount of willpower he had left, then sighed. "Go with it, I guess."

She tugged him down and kissed him hungrily, he grumbled softly, tongue wrapping into hers and hands sliding down her back, clinging to what restraint he had as he pulled her tight against him. Her claws raked his back, and he gasped as his willpower shattered, turning so she was trapped against the desk, not surprised when she moved to sit on it, hooking him with one of her feet to keep him ground close, not even breaking the kiss. He simply held her, hands hooked under the waistband of her sweats, common sense gone, only instinct left.

She broke the kiss with a grin, looking at him, his eyes only half opened, looking drugged, eyes dark and deep. "You ok?" She asked in a teasing voice, nipping his neck. He jittered electrically under her touch, breathing going ragged.

"No… well, yes, but…" His voice trailed off, head tilted back, sighing. "Tease." He growled that out, not even conscious really he had said it, a deep rumble in his voice.

"Your point? You seem to like it." She paused, nuzzling him softly, and he moaned under his breath helplessly, unable to deny it. She trailed her tongue along one of his ears, and gasped when he suddenly returned the favor, nipping one of her ears lightly, then trailing down to her neck. She pulled at his shirt mindlessly, and he yanked it off, making a noise that sounded like a purr when her hands slid down his bare back.

"How far do you want this to go?"

She froze, blinking. "Why?"

"I want to know if a cold shower is in my imminent future."

She burst into laughter, hugging him close. "That just sounds cruel."

"I can guarantee it would be uncomfortable." He kissed her on the nose, and grumbled happily when she replied by nibbling his neck again, trailing his claws down her back lightly. She growled, pulling her shirt over her head, then gasped when he scooped her up easily and moved across the room, flopping on the bed and rolling so she was under him, rumbling low in his chest. She propped herself on her elbows and growled back, then nimbly flipped them over, sitting on his stomach and holding his wrists to the bed for a moment. "You said I was in charge."

"I never said I was perfect." He replied, disgruntled, and protested helplessly as her tail wagged back and forth purposefully. "Not fair."

"Never. Stay."

He obeyed, and she looked down at him, smiling and tracing her hand over the repaired section of his chest. The screws she had been able to feel were gone, leaving ribs, not even scars apparent, and he rumbled under her touch, arching into it.

"Andross did a good job." She remarked. "He should have stayed a doctor."

James was incoherent, hands curled into the sheet as he tried to arch more, pressing into her hands, eyes barely open. She traced his muscle lines absently, and he repeated the purring noise helplessly, going limp under her touch, reaching up to brush his fingertips along her jaw. She leaned into it, pressing a kiss into his palm absently, then nipping his fingers, almost laughing at the helpless noise that was his only response.

She went still for a few moments, splaying her hands back across his chest, drawing another soft rumble of appreciation from him. How far did she want this to go? She didn't know. She was acting on impulse, delighted that such minor things could draw such powerful responses. That said, where was impulse taking her? To a point of no return, she was pretty sure, and she wasn't sure she cared. And it was blatantly obvious that the object of her attentions wouldn't argue practically anything at this point.

"Anything I want?" She finally asked.

It took him a few minutes to figure out he was being spoken to, and he nodded, drawing her down to kiss her hungrily. "Yeah, go with it. I have no protests. As long as you're sure about it…" He finally whispered, nibbling on one of her ears. All this time alone, all the half-remembered dreams and fantasies building up, and yet, it was bliss just to be like this, holding her. She nuzzled him absently, listening to the frantic pounding of his heart. He was holding a lot back, letting her have control, and she decided she'd use it. Why not? She knew she wanted it too.

And nearly an hour later, still propped on his chest and gasping, spent, she still didn't have any regrets. He was panting raggedly, hands still curved around her hips, absently thankful that he worked out as much as he did. He was exhausted, and yet as she collapsed on top of him, snuggling down, he felt heat ripple down his spine again. He sighed and shook it off, nuzzling at her absently. She smiled, returning the absent affection as he rubbed his hands on her back, sighing in contentment. "I love you, you know." He finally said, admitting it. She pushed herself up and looked at him, and saw nothing but open, raw emotion.

"How long?"

"Damn, I don't know. Since a few days after I was stationed here maybe. I love your eyes, your hair, everything about you. I was helpless to it really."

"You fall in love easily?"

"Only once before."

She sighed, smiling weakly. "I, I can't really say I love you. I don't know."

He smiled back. "That's ok, just make sure to tell me when you figure it out."

"Fair enough."

Marisa woke up with a start, eyes opening and automatically looking at the glowing clock on the wall. No matter what she did, she couldn't seem to avoid the odd hours of the morning. She laid there for a second, trying to figure out why the room was different, and the rest of reality moved in, mostly the fact that James had an arm tightly wound around her waist, clinging to her in his sleep like she was his lifeline. She smiled a bit, then finally figured out why she was awake: bathroom.

She started pushing away, and made an indignant noise as she was promptly tugged back.

"Don't go." James' voice was muzzy, he was probably still mostly asleep.

"I'm not, I just have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back, I promise." Her saying this awarded her with his arm being moved, and she pushed off the bed, moving to the bathroom and closing the door.

A few minutes later she was looking at herself in the mirror absently, hands just washed. She looked tired, but she figured that was a given-she hadn't gotten much sleep. Blinking, she looked down at the sink. Dogtags couldn't be removed, James still had his on even in bed, but the necklace she had seen him wearing was sitting next to the faucet, along with his keys and wallet. She picked up the necklace curiously, turning the heart-shaped pendant in her hands. A locket, obviously, with a hidden clasp. A gold alloy, not a high caret, but considering James' life it was probably chosen for toughness, not purity. After a few moments of studying, she found the clasp, and it came open easily in her hands.

And she nearly dropped it.

Staring back at her was.. herself. She had to assume, it did look just like her. But the hair style was different, and it was younger. She figured the girl in the locket to be in her early twenties. She stared at it blankly for several moments, trying to process this. Had James known her from before her coma? And if that was so, why hadn't he told her? Why was he leading her on like this?

Or if this wasn't her... then who was it? It had to be a relative, it was too identical to be anyone else. Hell they could have been twins. Getting an epiphany, she set the locket down open and picked up his wallet, flipping it open and taking out the stack of photos she had gotten a glimpse of. The top one was the one of Fox, from there it was rewinding time, the son becoming younger. There were years marked on the back of photos. Then, nearing the bottom of the stack... the woman in the locket, with Fox as a small child. 14 years ago. Then an even older photo, the woman even younger then in the locket, a candid photo. She trembled, staring at someone that could have been her, but too long ago. She wanted to cry, to scream. How should she feel? This was illogical. That's why Fox had different eyes. They were her eyes.

She looked at the closed door, beyond which James slept contentedly. Was this why he looked at her in that way? Like he knew her, like his world circled her? She slowly stacked the pictures and put them back, then picked up the locket. She had to know. No way around it.

She left the room, locket dangling in her fingers, and sat on the edge of the bed, prodding James' shoulder sharply. He grumbled, coming awake at her second or third poke, opening his eyes with a lazy smile. "Mm?" He asked hazily, then his eyes snapped fully open when she held up the open locket.

"You have some explaining to do."

"Oh. Shit."

"Is that all you can say?" She asked, staring at him. "This is me, isn't it?"

There was a long silence as he sat up with effort, propping himself on his arms and looking at her, lower half tangled in the sheet. He rubbed his eyes, obviously debating with himself, and let out a slow sigh. He couldn't lie to her, not now, but the situation was dismal. "No. No it isn't."

She gaped. "But, but… it has to be. She looks like me."

"In a way. Yes. But it isn't you. You have to believe me on this."

She looked at the picture, and he turned on the light with the remote so she could see better. There was something subtle, different between this girl and her. She wasn't sure what, though. "Then who is it?"

He sighed again. "Her name, maiden name at least, is Vixy Reinard."

"That name… I think I saw it on some of Andross' notes. I snuck a peek at his desk, once…" She looked from the locket to him. "Wait…"

"Vixy Reinard was my wife. She died thirteen years ago." His voice was resigned. "The only other woman I ever loved. She was my life."

"So you went for me immediately because I looked at her?" She frowned at him. He only shrugged weakly.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You haven't lied to me yet." She pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That is true. But truth is far more surreal then fiction. At least in this case." He held out his hand, she put the locket in his palm, and he looked at it, sighing brokenly.

"I feel like it's déjà vu when I look at her. Like I know her." She finally said, still frowning at him. "Just tell me. James. Just tell me."

He looked at her, eyes blank. "Fine. You're a clone."

She blinked. There was several moments of silence, then she just screamed, "WHAT?"

He held up his hands in treaty. "Ok, that was a bit harsh, I'm sorry. But it's true. Apparently. You're genetically identical to the woman in this locket. It wasn't my choice, but you see… I… I…" He stammered to a halt. "Oh, god, do you really want to know this?"

She sat there, staring at him, hands curled into fists. "A clone." She repeated, voice cold. "Not your choice."

"Yes."

"Tell me everything. Tell me why." She pinned him in her gaze, demanding it, and blinked. He was broken. The man she knew was gone, just remnants left, something vague and depressed and barely alive. She'd blitzed him, and she couldn't even stop to feel sorry about it. If this was the truth, then she had to know it.

"Where do you want me to start?"

"The beginning."

So he told her. About coming to Corneria, about meeting Andross and being his lab rat, testing weapons and such, and almost dying multiple times. He told her about having coffee with a genius, someone so different then the man she considered her brother she barely recognized it as being the same person. He told her about meeting Vixy, a chance bump at a coffee shop, and being enamored in a split second. The whirlwind courtship that carried on for almost a year, dealing with her parents hating him, juggling the job of a mercenary and the duties of a boyfriend. He told her about meeting and banding up with Peppy Hare, still one of his best friends, a steady, a rock, and meeting Pigma in the same week, and the tough-as-nails trio they formed, taking jobs together and generally showing all of the Cornerian military just what only a few good people could do when supplied right. And between his 'days at the office' he was engaged, then married, and suddenly found his peace with the world.

And she listened in shock as he dumped everything out, two decades of his past. She had to smile at some of it, he was an able storyteller, she felt the joy that rippled off him when he told her about the birth of his son, and in the same year, the official formation of the Star Fox team, the purchase of the Great Fox. His life had picked up a blazing momentum, then from nowhere fell flat. He was leaning on the wall, legs out in front of him, sheet still tangled around him. His head was tilted back, but she still saw the tears run when he explained how his wife had died. She sat there, hand lifted to her mouth in mute shock, as he told her in cold detail how he watched the broken body of the one person he lived for go smashing through the windshield of a car, the explosion still rocking the street. He told her how he held his wife as he died.

And he told her how he was going for his gun, still in a holster, to die right then and there, when his son, standing on the sidewalk, had asked if his mommy was ok. And he told her about the thirteen years of sheer unadulterated hell that followed. How he had, basically, died on that street. That he drug himself through day after day of life, trying so hard to be a good father and to lead his friends through battle after battle, when all he really wanted to do was quit, just lay down and die the rest of the way. He loved his son, he told her about the years of school, about his son graduating normal education and hitting the air force, and basically owning flight school from every angle. He told her about the three musketeers—Fox, Falco, and Bill, and their own sense of virtue.

He told her about getting the letter in the mail, no stamp, no return address. He told her about the check inside, and the offer, and how he was in no position to refuse money because of how deep he was in debt. He told her about jumping here, to this cruiser, and having a meeting with Andross. And how Andross had shown him her, through the glass of hydroponics, and how his heart and snapped right then and there. And he told her about how Andross had explained he had cloned her from a post-mortem blood sample, taken from James' dead wife in the morgue.

She stared at him blankly, listening in shock. She was… his pay? Andross had done that? She didn't want to believe it, but James was open, vulnerable, telling her everything. She was sure he wasn't lying, he couldn't, not in this state.

He trailed off, knowing she knew the rest, going silent and hugging himself, letting himself tumble into the blank depression he had known for so long. He couldn't believe he had said all that. Looking at the clock, he had been talking for a very long time. His throat was scratchy and dry, and shakes wracked his body—exhaustion, sore muscles from last night, and tension. He let himself shut down, drawing in and barely aware of the world. That was it, then, wasn't it? He'd told her everything, she was obviously mad, borderline repulsed. That was it. Done. He'd had one final night of peace. Time to go for good, he supposed…

She watched him collapse, watched the fire bleed from his eyes, sap out, and reached out and touched his shoulder. He startled, looking up at her, gaze hollow, empty. "Yeah?" His voice broke her heart, and she moved to kneel beside him, hand still barely touching his shoulder, holding him there and living, making him focus on her.

"Do you really love me?"

He looked at her, blinking once. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"Just me. Nothing to do with your wife."

"Nothing to do with my wife. I can barely compare you to her. I could venture to say I love you more… but… it wouldn't really matter." He glanced away, and she turned his head to face her, making him look at her. "Why? After all I've told you…"

"None of it was your fault." She replied, voice gentle. "I'm mad. I can't say I'm not. This whole thing seems impossible, but… you aren't lying to me. I can tell that much. You dealt with the circumstances the best you could, and in spite of the situation, all that shit you went through… you love me."

"Yes."

"Then I can't just let that go."

"What?" He asked blankly, and gasped when she drew him in, sharing a soft kiss, tender and loving. He curled his arms around her shoulders, and she felt that fire spark back to life in him. She broke it after a moment, and smiled softly at him, brushing her fingers down one of his cheeks. He looked back at her, smiling weakly, that world-ending depression receded, fading. "Why…?" He asked faintly, barely able to put words to it.

"I can't let you go. You… complete me. I guess. I don't know. But I know if I freak out now, and dress and leave… you'll be out of my life forever. They'll find you, dead, or near it, dying, because you'll just stop. You shoved all your chips in for one final gamble, gambled your life for someone who didn't know you." She repeated the soft caress, and he shivered under it, not arguing, knowing it was true. "But it's ok. You won your bet."

A choked sob of tension escaped him, and she held him to her chest, letting him get it out. They stayed like that a long time, intertwined on the bed, pasts left behind, futures uncertain, only the present mattering. It was hours later, as she mulled over what he had told her, that she finally spoke again.

"James?"

"Mm?" They were laying down now, his head leaned to her chest, listening to her heartbeat. He was lax, tension gone, just hope now. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe…

"One thing still bothers me."

"Mm?" He repeated.

"Why would Andross have a sample of your wife's blood? It's gotta be… taboo? To just walk into a morgue and take a blood sample from a body… Why would he bother? I mean, surely he couldn't have known at the time that he'd need it for leverage against you…"

He stiffened, blinking. "Oh, holy shit." He said, stunned. "You're right. There isn't a logic to that. And at the time… he wasn't really insane. I mean I still knew him. He seemed pretty stable. Depressed, maybe a bit, but stable."

"Then why would he have it?"

He pushed himself up on one elbow, looking at her. "I don't know. But as soon it's a decent hour, I'm going to go ask him myself."

Andross sighed, drinking coffee, as he stared at the hologram floating in front of him. It was a display of the system with his forces mapped out, and Corneria's forces. That damnable ship, the Great Fox, and its crew were cutting a swath through his forces like a knife through butter. Why the hell were they so hard to take out? He huffed, setting the mug down. Apparently, bring James over to his side hadn't been enough. It had been a gamble, and he had admittedly totally forgot that James had even had a son—let alone that said son was a fucking pilot ace! He had spent the hour of hacking, and had the flight records for all four pilots on one of the screens. Great, two aces, Peppy Hare, an ace in his own right, and a wild card—a mechanic flying forward, who was alternately good or bad, beginner's luck.

Maybe he should have just killed James and done away with that damnable fast-attack cruiser. That would have probably solved the problem much more efficiently…

_But you can't do that, can you old man?_ He sighed, shaking his head. As pissed as he was, killing James didn't seem like a viable option. Oh, he could do it pretty easily. It'd take less then five minutes. Hell he'd to it himself: wouldn't be very hard to glance at James and psychically smash his heart, making the slightly younger man drop dead. But he couldn't really bring himself to consider it. He'd already caused James' family a lot of pain, and Marisa would never forgive him.

Yes, there was always that.

He glanced up when the door to his lab opened, and almost moaned when James was standing in the doorway. Then Marisa joined him, and they walked over, fingers laced together, a comfortable union. Andross sighed to himself and sat back in his chair, watching them approach with a kind of resignation.

"Morning." He said blandly, gesturing at the hologram with his coffee cup. "It would seem that my attempt at disarming your little band of hooligans was largely ineffective, James." James shrugged, eyes narrowed, eyeing him as if suspicious of something. Great, now what? "Ok. Pleasantries aside then. What's your problem?"

"And we have a question for you. Or rather, Marisa does."

Andross pivoted his chair slightly, taking another drink. "Go ahead." He kept his voice bland, though he still smiled, unable to help it.

"James told me everything."

He almost dropped his mug in his lap, but recovered well. "Oh really? About?"

"Stop it. You know what I'm talking about. Stop lying to me." She glared, shivering, hands balled into fists.

"I didn't." He replied, voice not bland, just irritated, and he stood, walking across the lab.

"What the fuck do you…" She started, and he wheeled to look at her.

"What did I tell you?"

"That… that I had been asleep. A coma. That I was someone dear to you."

"Ergo. I didn't lie to you. You had been in a coma: clones always seem to be when they first come to life. It took you about 18 hours to come out of it. And you are someone dear to me, Marisa."

She blinked, staring at him in blank shock. He put his hand out to the side, and a test tube full of liquid, pale blue, came to his hand, and walked back over to her, holding it up inches from her face. She stared at it, confused, then looked at him. "What…?"

"Meet yourself."

"WHAT?"

"This is a genespin. My own lingo: a substance you can use to clone someone, extracted from blood, mixed with a few liquids. Put this in one of these…" He nodded at the tubes of what seemed to be water around the lab, huge capsules, easily big enough to fit a person. Heal tanks, is what she heard them slanged as: severely injured soldiers could be rehabilitated in them. Apparently Andross had found a different use for them. "And the machines I've built do the rest. Bone up reconstruction. Mental rehabilitation. Everything in that head of yours…" He lifted a finger, tapping between her eyes. "Is what I put there. What I remembered. What I liked. Your savvy. Your business knowledge. Your kindness."

"That… that isn't what I was going to ask." She licked her lips, struggling to keep herself calm. "I'm ok. I'm ok with the fact that I'm a clone." She met his eyes. "I'm all right with who I am. What I don't understand, what _we_ don't understand, is why you'd have a sample of Vixy Reinard's blood in the first place."

There was a long frozen moment, and he turned his back and walked away, setting the tube back in the rack, struggling with himself. He could feel James staring at him, that cold fire. James was a flaring mental presence to him, always was, he supposed James was probably a latent—but probably ten percent of Lylat was. No big deal. He finally turned back, looking at both of them, and said blandly. "Desperation. Hope. Insanity. Grief."

"Some detail would be nice." James rumbled.

"Do you think you were the only one that loved her?"

They looked at each other, and comprehension suddenly clicked in James' eyes, and rage blazed, screaming rage as his stance changed, sweeping a foot back silently. Ready for whatever was going to happen now. "You…"

"I loved her. Christ, McCloud. Don't you get it? Why she'd be in a coffee shop half a block from my labs? Her family _funded me._ Her mother was _diabetic._ I was working on a DNA-up solution to diabetes, retroactive. They donated thousands hoping I'd find it. I found some good therapy tools but never finished the work. I'm pretty sure she's still on that therapy too. If she's still alive." He shrugged neutrally. "They came, monthly, twice monthly. Toured the labs. Visited me. I didn't mind, it was a good distraction from all the other shit going on. And sometimes… sometimes Vixy came along. She was nice to me, McCloud. Over any other girl I'd really known… she was nice to me. And she understood what I was doing, what I was going through with my government funding. We'd have coffee sometimes, or lunch, and we'd talk. Don't you remember, James? That you ran into me at the door the same day you met her? I was on my way out."

"Then how…"

"I took her blood because I'm the one that killed her. McCloud. I knew that someday I'd be able to fix it. Totally selfish goal: you'd had your time. I wanted mine."

He saw it coming and blocked mindlessly, wind exploded, and the two were standing, Andross still blocking, James glaring into his eyes, borderline mad with anger. Marisa cried out, hand reached forward, unsure who to stop.

"Back down. McCloud. I will kill you. I just have to think hard about it."

"Then why haven't you?"

"Because I failed the first time I tried to. It would seem someone's looking out for your battlescarred ass." James stood down, taking a step back, and Andross shook off sharply, cracking his knuckles absently. "Can I continue now?" He asked pointedly. James held up his hands silently—he'd keep control of himself for now. "Yes, James. I killed your wife. I was aiming for you. I've been in and out of insanity for fifteen years, a side effect of the fact that I've always been psychic. You know, as well as I do, how that works. And I loved her. And you got her. And I fell into insanity, bit by bit, and in my moments of madness I decided to take you out of the picture. Why not? I had money, at the time. A lot of it. I was still a friend of the family. I'd be at the funeral."

"The silent comforting hand. Letting her cry on your shoulder. Taking my place, perhaps." James said, voice cold.

"Well, that never happened did it? You weren't the one that got in the car. And the reason I asked about your own suicide attempts is because I nearly did that day. When I heard I'd killed her. Most of the doctors in town knew me, so I dropped by the morgue and asked to see her body. Explained I'd known her, just wanted to know if it was true. They left me alone a few minutes. Enough to get a small sample of her blood. Cloning blood is easy."

There was a long silence, and James hands fell out of the fists they'd become, anger melting away very slowly. There was no point to it now. It'd happened a long, long time ago. He didn't really want to believe it, but it made sense, bitterly.

"Even after I got into cloning and genetic research, I never had time to bring her back. The government, on my back, everything else going on. My eventual exile. Only when I was far away, building my armada, did it click with me I could rebuild my lab and bring her back. So I created the genespins for it." He nodded at the tubes of blue fluid. "And then, it was decided you'd be a problem, in the war. And I had an immediate solution."

"You really are a bastard, Mathias."

"Fuck off, James. I did what I did. I'm not really proud."

"Mathias?" Marisa frowned, and both men jumped, having nearly forgot she was standing there watching this happen.

"Yes. Dr. Mathias Andross, PHD." Andross smiled at her wearily. "My first name, hun."

"I'd never heard it before."

"That's not surprising. All through my youth it was 'Dr. Andross.' Eventually it just dissolved to 'Andross.'" He shrugged, feeling tired. "Leave me. I need some peace."

They looked at him, and Marisa turned to leave. James stood there a moment, then wordlessly picked up a chair. Andross watched him cross the room, and made no move to stop him as he swung, and the tubes shattered, fluid and broken glass flying through the air. James dropped the chair, looking at him, the message clear. Then they left, hand in hand, leaving Andross standing there, alone in the lab.


	11. Section 9

"I should have been here." Anna sighed, kneeling on the floor. Broken glass still scattered the floor, and she reached out and touched the drying fluid before slicking her ears back, looking up at her creator. "I'm so sorry."

"Dear, even you have to sleep at some point." Andross sighed, standing there with a broom. "It's quite all right. I can't expect you to guard me every second. No real harm was done."

"But he attacked you! And this… this meant so much to you."

"McCloud is a bastard, true. I have no doubt he would have tried to kill me if I hadn't made him step down. But I would have killed him first." He shrugged. "Besides, McCloud is all about sending messages. And that's all this is: a message."

She stood and took the broom from him, sweeping up the glass as he wiped down the counter, pushing the broken glass into a pile as he did. "What message?" She finally asked, pausing and looking at him, bare feet only inches from the shards.

"He wants this to end. Which is fine. So do I."

James was whistling when he walked into the gym, which soundly spooked most of the soldiers there. They looked up and watched him silently, all having heard about his last bout here, and weren't surprised when he picked up two swords, moving to the center of the floor and tapping his leg to a beat with one of the blades. Then he leapt into the motion, more of a dance then a fight, wearing only jeans—his feet were bare, and he hadn't bothered with a tank top.

"Well, something's different." One of the soldiers remarked, glancing at his friend, who was spotting for him.

"He's happy. That beat he's working with isn't draggy like most of the stuff he seems to listen to."

Eventually James put the swords back, leaving the gym and strolling down the hallway, not particularly caring about his state of dress. Soldiers stopped and stared at him as he wandered by, going to the elevator and taking it to the level his floor was on. He hadn't really been even trying to exercise, just to stretch out fully, get his still sore muscles moving again. He grinned to himself, unable to help it as he trotted down the hallway to his room. He hadn't felt this good in a very long time.

His terminal was making the ringing noise when he walked in, and he hit the touch screen as he walked by it, shrugging into a tank top absently as a video feed came up. He wasn't surprised when it was O'Donnel, looking haggard and grease-stained, eye-patch missing. One of his shoulders was bloody. "Damn, man, what the fuck happened to you?" He asked pointedly, tucking the tank top in absently.

"I just thought you'd like to know that your son just kicked my ass. Our asses, actually. We all got shot down. We're circling back by the armada to get new craft."

There was a long silence, and Wolf didn't look pleased when James threw his head back and laughed uproariously. "Really, now?" He yanked the desk chair over and sat, lifting his eyebrows. "And you're sure it's my son?"

"He looks just like you. And he's got an attitude from hell. I'm sure." Wolf sighed, shrugging out of his uniform jacket, wincing the entire time. "We all got downed. Would have been killed, if we hadn't been in an atmospheric environment…"

"Oh, what planet?"

"Fortuna." Wolf pulled his badges off the jacket and dropped it aside, pocketing the one James gave him absently.

"I imagine it was cold as hell. Always is there."

"You have no idea. Pigma got frostbite waiting to be picked up." Wolf snickered, smiling sourly. "Oh, your son is pissed about that. The fact that Pigma survived that beating was sheer luck."

"He was gloating it up, eh? His mistake. My son is not easy to back down when he's provoked." James relaxed back, lifting an eyebrow when Wolf studied his own shoulder, teeth bared in pain. "That happen in the crash?"

"No, this was Leon."

"I thought he was on your side?"

"Leon is a fucking nutcase. He went loopy after we got picked up, not a good leader this, that, next thing I know he has a knife." Wolf shrugged out of the undershirt, looking at the damage. "He missed, grazed the top of my shoulder. Shouldn't even need stitches but it's bleeding like a son of a bitch."

"He seemed pretty stable before you guys left for the front lines."

"Yeah, well, seems like his psych is well and stirred up now. Seems one of his old enemies is fighting next to your son, some gang-war thing, I don't even know. He was ranting. He's locked up right now." Wolf pressed a hand towel into the wound, sighing and giving James the eye. "You know, you could have told me about the fact that I'd be getting your little group of bastards back in my face."

"Where's the fun in that? Just because I'm where I am does not mean I'm rooting Andross on. Remember that." He paused. "I mean, not that I have anything against you, ok Wolf? But if I told you, who knows who you'd tell."

"The one equals ten rule. Right." He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Well, can I ask you some questions about that now?"

"Sure."

"Your son. He as good as he seems he is?"

"Yes."

"Is he as good as you are?"

"That's debated." James admitted. "During wargames it was a sixty-forty split toward my favor, but he was getting better, closing the gap."

"Should I assume they'll continue to hunt Venom's forces down?"

"Probably, yes. As long as Pepper pays them."

"… Should I assume they'll continue to hunt my group down?"

"Probably, as long as you're in the way. No one on the StarFox team has ever shot to kill. Just to down."

"Hm. Makes your little group better then who I work with then." He glanced over his shoulder, then sighed again, leaning closer to the screen. "… Have you ever gotten the idea you've made a bad choice?"

James nodded once. "All the time, on and off. See it through Wolf. Do what you have to. We'll go from there." He held up a finger. "Hurt my son, though, and I'll hunt you down."

"Given. All right. Talk to you later." The screen blanked, and James stared at it, then felt a wide grin cross his face. He stood and walked over to the map, picking up the blue pen and moving Corneria's forces, marking Fortuna as taken.

"One at a time, son." He tapped the back end of the marker against the Fortuna insignia, tracing the path to Venom. "One at a time…"

"Hey, Bill!"

The two shared a hug and a back slap, laughing, and Bill grinned when he was let go, pulling his headset off absently. "About time you showed up to visit."

"Just in time to save your ass, apparently." Fox grinned back. "You have time for a drink?"

"Definitely. Things on the surface are way covered."

The group gathered in the galley, Fox opening a hard cranberry lemonade and sliding it across the table to Bill, opening a normal one for himself. Falco opened his own. "So how's life leading your own squad, eh?" Fox asked, flopping down in a chair.

"Pretty good. And I actually lead several squads now." Bill grinned. "That's what I get for paying attention in tactics classes, I guess. Either way, I make ok money and the position seems to command at least a little respect. But you're right, we were getting our asses handed to us before you showed up to help."

"Well, next time make sure you paint your fighters a different color, or give us the codes to see your guys on our VR displays." Falco said. "I almost downed a couple of your guys on accident."

"Yeah, I know. I think they did it on purpose, and what were we supposed to do, spray paint ourselves neon orange as we emergency deployed?" Bill rolled his eyes, taking a drink and sighing appreciatively. "I take it being mercenaries is turning out ok."

"Now that we're in it, yeah. We were getting kind of worried toward the end there, kind of figured they'd forgotten they could call us in." Fox said, knocking back half his bottle in a gulp—he was still thirsty from the fight. "We've had an interesting time of it. We ran into Pigma on Fortuna."

"Yeah, I heard about that in a roundabout way. I always said he was a bastard."

"He's a good pilot, but unfortunately, his heart pumps poison instead of blood." Peppy said, succumbing and opening a beer. What the hell, according to their orders they weren't going to be deployed again for ten hours, unless someone hit the panic button. "So what's next for you, Bill?"

"Bah, usual shit. I lead a defensive force, mainly, but being the state of panic everything is in myself and a squad may be going on loan somewhere else, depending on what's going on." Bill wove the bottle in a dismissive gesture. "Way we've heard it, Andross has sunk his claws in everywhere, and as Corneria's forces are still building back up, anything anyone else has is being distributed around for maximum defensive capability."

"Apparently we get to go to Sector Y next." Slippy said. "I hate the concept of fighting in a nebula, myself, but there's a large section of Corneria's armada there, and they're apparently on the fallback right now and want some fire support so they can muster their strength again."

"Well, we may see each other then, I think that's one of the possibilities for my groups to deploy to. That and such fun places like Solar." Bill rolled his eyes.

"Well hey, to the Musketeers and company then." Fox said, lifting his bottle, and several bottles clicked into it immediately. "Oh… and for my dad. Wish he could be with us right now." This toast was met with silent agreement, and the galley was quiet for a few minutes after that.

James woke up with a start when a thundering pounding rattled his door. He sat up blearily, blinking, then it happened again, so he got up, going over to the door and opening it, scratching one of his ears absently and blinking at Andross, who was in uniform and looking pissy. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" He finally asked, yawning. "I was dead asleep."

"Yeah, whatever, put a shirt on and come on. NOW."

"And you'll do what if I don't?"

Andross pulled a hand back silently. James didn't have to be sensitive to it to feel the air whipping around that hand, psychic power waiting, with a hefty promise behind it.

"Fine." He closed the door, and came out a few moments later, having put a plain t-shirt on over his sweat shorts. "What the hell is going on?" He asked, making himself not growl when he was drug down the hallway. They took the elevator straight to the command levels, bypassing the bridge and entering a large dark room. "The hell is this?"

"Holographic command." Andross said over his shoulder, typing at a keyboard at the corner. "I wanted to show you something."

"… Ok…" He leaned on the wall, watching as Andross walked into the center of the room, sighing and joining him when Andross gestured him forward. "I don't see the point of this yet…"

"You'll see…" Andross lifted his voice. "Music, please." Music started pumping into the room, and Andross lifted his arms silently as the holographic generators around the room came to life.

James gaped, looking around. They were standing in the center of a massive battle, two armadas locked in combat. It was easy to see who was winning so far—Corneria's forces were on the retreat. Then Andross started talking again, and he looked back to the Emperor, seeing that he had a headset on. He was commanding his armada real-time? Why take this much interest? The battle was won…

No. No it wasn't. Cutting through Corneria's forces, working their way forward, was his ship, the Great Fox. In front of it, four fighters. Behind it, another small group of fighters—Katinan paint jobs? He blinked, watching this in amazement as Andross' cruisers changed formation quickly, Andross preparing for the shift in tactics. It was harder for cruisers to hit small, fast-moving targets like fighters, so as he watched fighters were being deployed to match.

But it didn't seem to matter.

Andross' forces were tired—they'd been on the advance for days. And that made it all the easier for the fighters to cut back and forth through the line of cruisers. Andross tried desperately to bolster the lagging morale of his troops, trying to rally them again, but for all his shouting, cruiser after cruiser blew. Toward the end, one or two went up without being touched, a broken "I'm sorry my Emperor" reaching the room before the cruiser listed, fire exploding out ports. Death before dishonor. James found himself yelling as well, hoping maybe Andross' mic picked him up, trying to get the troops to rally for a retreat, trying to convince the soldiers to come back to the main armada…

Then it was darkness. The only ship advancing was the Great Fox, and Corneria's armada was coming back into the sector slowly, the ships from Katina cutting out and returning home. Andross was kneeling in the middle of the room, headset dangling around his neck, shoulders trembling.

"Do you have any idea how many soldiers just died?" Andross' voice was harsh, choked, and he staggered to his feet, tossing the headset aside. "I was using that sector to stockpile reserve. They're all gone now. Thousands of soldiers…" He stood there a minute, then lunged, grabbing James and slamming him into a wall. "God damn it McCloud! Why couldn't you have warned me about this? My soldiers are dying right and left! The only reason you are here right now is I thought it would disable your little group, but instead I seem to have only bought myself more problems then solutions!"

"Hey, hey. Back off man." James scowled. "You're the one without a contingency plan here. All I wanted was for my copilot Hare and my cruiser to survive. That's really all I asked. You aren't even PAYING me, beyond that initial five grand."

"Fucking asshole, you really don't get it at all." He dropped James, staring. "Whether I won or lost, Corneria would have honored its soldiers lost. The difference is, if I lose… the soldiers who died serving me disappear from time. Their names forgotten, nothing but a black mark in their training logs if their names are found out. Nothing but "For those left unknown, lest we forget." Don't you GET IT!" He wove his hand toward the center of the room. "Didn't you hear them? Two of those cruisers self destructed, dying in my name rather then living in your forces capture. And they will be forgotten. We are not talking about mere death, McCloud, we're talking about annihilation. Because your fucking team wouldn't just QUIT."

James stared at him as he broke down, cupping his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, not an Emperor, just a heartbroken scientist, lost and far from home. "It isn't just about revenge, is it?" He said slowly.

There was a long pause, and when Andross lowered his hands the mask was back in place, shoulders squaring, back straightening. "No, McCloud. It's not. Not since the first soldiers joined me." And with that, he left the room, leaving James standing their in blackness.

Wolf sighed, watching the new fighters getting loaded into the docking bay of his cruiser, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He felt worn down, dragging through this because he didn't have a choice now.

Where had his motivation gone? Only days before he had been itching to get on with it, gun the engines and beat Corneria's forces into the ground. And now, here he was, his cruiser being patched up, looking at his new fighters. His shoulder still twinged; a crude reminder about the stability of those he flew with.

"This should even matters up a bit." Pigma remarked, standing nearby, arms crossed. "I've looked over the tech specs of these fighters. Next time we meet with Star Fox, we should be able to take them apart."

"It's not the machine that matters, it's the pilot." Wolf replied without looking at him, huffing. "If it was just the machine, you could put a five year old in these things and still win the battle."

Pigma shot him a look. "Are you saying Star Fox is better then us?"

"Oh, hell. I don't know anymore." He scratched the back of his head. "I'm just fucking tired ok? I haven't slept in a day and a half by my count."

"Well, you can sleep now." Andrew drifted over, reading a printout. "We're not deploying on the front lines anymore."  
"WHAT?" Pigma sputtered.

"True. According to this we're being deployed defensively, so we can retire for a while since they have to conduct repairs and then our AI will move us to our new position automatically. We'll be defending Venom and assisting in the defense of one of the space stations near there, Bolse."

"Thanks Andrew." Wolf turned his back on the new fighters and staggered away, leaning on the wall as he walked and collapsing gladly into his quarters, flopping on the bed and managing to get his boots off with only a mild struggle. Defense? He fell back and stared at the ceiling of his quarters, sighing. If they were being assigned to defense, then Andross had to be thinking the worst was going to happen, and was putting them back to guard command. He yawned widely, taking his eyepatch off and dropping it aside absently, wondering absently what James had meant by 'we'll go from there' as he slipped into a fitful slumber.

Marisa steadied herself, looking up from her plants when the ship suddenly rattled, which meant the engines had gone from standby to full engage. She stood and dusted her hands off, jogging to a view port and staring. The cruiser was turning, from the view she was getting of the rest of the force. As she watched, the command ship turned completely, nose toward Venom, and moved forward at full speed, swinging around the planet and coming to a slow halt. Hiding.

Andross had ordered his command ship into hiding.

_Oh, no._ She stood there, hand lifted to her mouth. She didn't need to know a lot about military tactics to know what that was signified: if they were hiding, then someone was coming for them.

She moved back to where she had been, putting everything away hurridly, then ran through the ship, going to the elevator and going to command, stepping out and stopping. The high command had gathered in a circle, Andross was talking in a low voice to them, standing with them as an equal. She couldn't hear what was being said, but she heard the tone: serious, pained. Something had happened.

After a few minutes the meeting broke up, and Andross turned and saw her, smiling after a moment. "Marisa, what are you doing here?"

"I felt you move the ship." She replied stepping down from the elevator to be next to him. "And I saw where you moved it to. Andross, what is going on? Not long ago this cruiser was forward in combat…"

"Yes, well… things are not going as well right now. I want to make sure my command staff remains safe. I, meanwhile, will soon be going down to the surface to check on some things in my main laboratory there." Seeing her alarm, he held up his hands. "Relax, this won't be for a few days yet. Nothing to worry about, just making sure some projects have come along as planned."

"You sure?" She finally asked.

He nodded, waving a hand. "Go on dear. Don't worry about it. We won't let anything happen to this ship."

She nodded and left the bridge, sitting in the elevator and staring into the distance. He had been lying. It had even been blatant. Something was horribly wrong. She knew that Corneria's forces were pushing Venom's back, but had hope been lost already? Surely not…

After many long moments, she stood and keyed the floor for James' room, waiting the several long minutes then walking down the corridor, tapping on his door. "James? You in?"

He opened the door, in uniform pants and a shirt. "Hey, Marisa." He grinned when he saw her, pulling her in so he could hug her, then blinking when she clung for a second. "Hey, hey. What's wrong?" He maneuvered so he could see her face decently.

"You're keeping track of the battles, right?"

"As I can, yes, why?"

"Tell me what's going on. Andross moved the cruiser but he won't tell me the real reason why."

James nodded, going over to the maps, which now had two more printouts added on—the old ones had gotten too messy to keep track properly. He showed her how Venom had initially advanced, showed her what had happened when they'd been pushed off Corneria, and then showed her what was happening now: Star Fox was hitting planet after planet, destroying everything they could, and behind them swept what was left of Lylat's armadas, cleaning up. Venom had lost fully half the system already.

They were loosing. And it wasn't a slow loss.

She stared at the battle charts, numb. "My god." She finally said. "I was so sure he'd win."

"I didn't figure anything was certain." James replied. "Nothing ever is. I mean, by sheer hardware alone yes, he should have won, but Andross forgot the biggest piece of the puzzle—the human factor. Andross was fighting to take over; Lylat was fighting for their lives, their freedom. And in the end, they fought the hardest. And they still are."

"How can you be so calm about this?" She turned to look at him. "They're going to come for us too, James. If they find this cruiser we'll die."

"Ah, ah." He drew her close, caressing her cheek softly with one hand. "No, we won't love. You forget, I'm a mercenary. If Andross is loosing so badly his command cruiser is going to fall under attack, I can say my contract is up and take my leave of absence, and take a shuttle to the nearest friendly port. And you are more then welcome to come with."

That made her smile. "Oh really?"

"Yes. I would practically insist in fact. We'll… I don't know. Go swimming on Zoness or something. Something romantic."

She couldn't help but giggle, leaning into him. "Ok. Ok. But… what about Andross?"

"I'd imagine that's his choice, love."

Andross sighed, walking down the stone corridors quickly, Anna behind him carrying his equipment bag easily. He hadn't wanted to come down here, but it was clear there weren't many options left. The personnel still in the building saluted and cleared the way, and he entered the main room of the lab easily, walking around the huge machines and gesturing for the equipment bag.

It didn't take long to set the interfaces back up, adjusting the power levels and throwing the switches. The machine came to life with a roar, generators firing up, then settled into a peaceful idle. The room hummed, and he smiled wearily.

Of course he had a contingency plan. As long as McCloud's son was stupid enough to walk into it…

"Ok, let's take a look at this…" Fox was sitting on wreckage, a system map in his hands. The rest of the team, as well as the local ship commanders, stood around him, in the shade created by the Landmaster's shadow. "With the supply lines here cut, any remaining forces toward Corneria should fall in swift order."

"In other words, we've basically got Andross cornered." One of the commanders looked at the map, pointing at Area 6. "That's the hard part. He's got a massive defense line there, and a defensive station here." He moved the finger to Bolse. "And about half the time, there's a detail of elite pilots guarding the station."

"Hah, Star Wolf right? They're not that great. We've taken them before." Falco said, sitting on the treads of the Landmaster and taking a drink from a canteen. "Are they going to do something about that fire or what?" He pointed down the hill, at the burning fuel bunkers.

"The hell with it, let it burn." Fox replied, and blinked when in a shower of flame the boss robot resurfaced in a final show of defiance, making it only about fifty feet before falling from the skies, grinding into the sand and burning. "Man, they don't give up."

"Death throes, ignore it." Replied one of the commanders, moving to look at the map. "I imagine you boys can't be in two places at once, no matter how good you are. So how about this… We'll break out our big guns and siege Bolse Station from a distance."

"Define 'big guns.'" Slippy said over his shoulder, arm deep in the Landmaster's engine, growling about sand.

"Well, we've got some particle beam cannons. They've been retrofitted on a scout ship that's loaded down with sensory arrays."

Slippy stopped, staring at him. "That's like a sniper rifle for god, man. You'd be able to stay within minutes of orbit here and take them out."

"Yeah, but our shots are limited. After about a dozen rounds we'll deplete the energy stores in our engine and have to wait an hour for recharge."

"A dozen shots with a particle beam cannon is more then enough to blow away Bolse." Fox said, drawing an X over Bolse station. "I imagine your forces will be doing cleanup as well, so that leaves the Area Six forces to us."

"Go get'em, kid."


	12. Section 10

Marisa woke up, looking over her shoulder and yawning. She and James had dozed off completely clothed, which had amused her greatly, and from the clock on the wall they'd napped a few hours. Probably would have slept all night, but James was up, sitting in the desk chair next to the terminal. She could hear voices come from it faintly, he had dialed down the volume as low as he could and still be able to hear it clearly.

"James?"

He looked up. "Sorry."

"It's ok. What's going on?"

"Battle feed. I found the radio channels the pilots and commanders are broadcasting on."

"There's a battle right now?" She sat up, and he nodded wordlessly. "Where at?"

He looked at the map on the wall. "What's been termed Area Six. Venom Air Defense Zone."

"Oh, my god."

"Hey. Relax, it'll be…" He stopped short, and dialed up the volume. "Listen."

Static cut the air, and she heard the chatter of pilots, background noise, muddled, then a single clear voice, young, angry, commanding. She caught names, here and there, and she recognized them, looking back at James after several long minutes. "Is that…?"

He nodded again. "That's my son."

"And you could use that terminal to broadcast couldn't you? To talk to him?"

He was silent for a moment, then said, "Probably. Yes."

"Then… Why don't you? He's doing all this because he thinks you're dead, James. It's… cold. I guess."

"Don't you think I want to?" He stared at her. "Don't you think its killing me? We were on our own a long time, and I do love him. He's a good kid. But for now he's got to think I'm dead."

She pushed off the bed and walked over to him, brushing her fingers over his scalp and ears. He sighed and leaned into her, arms curling over hips and forehead leaning against her stomach. "You've got a plan, obviously." She finally said.

"Not so much. It's just, the way I figure it… my son and his friends are the only way that nutcase we call a friend is going to go down." Feeling her stop, he huffed. "I know. I know. It's mean. But you've got to agree with me that Andross is slipping his last gears."

She didn't reply, running her fingers through his thick fur again, thinking about that. Thinking about how brutally he had told her she was a clone. Yes, he was changing. And not for the better. She sighed, shaking off and staying where she was, eventually just wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him as they listened to the radio.

Fox leaned on the wall, drinking a soda as he watched one of the docking robots repair the arwings. They were coming up on Venom, and fast. Peppy was trying to figure out their best approach, and Falco was coordinating with him, talking to the Cornerian brass and trying to figure out what was going to be done. Apparently Andross had a lot of hardware on the surface, and it was Peppy's opinion that they wouldn't be enough. As Peppy was usually right, Fox hadn't argued.

They'd already been through one fairly brutal battle. Area Six hadn't proven an easy take. The Great Fox was invaluable all over again, dealing out destruction and wiping out many of the large cruisers Venom had had left. It was the thing waiting at the end that had surprised him: a massive disk on edge. The Gorgon, the laser that had single-handedly wiped out the majority of Lylat's forces. He'd taken it out, the shield had been easy to take down and the thing had had little actual armor.

So why the hell was he so unsettled about this?

He rubbed the back of his neck, huffing. The battle had gone well, even with Andross' nutcase voice harassing him from a distance. That hadn't really bothered him. It was more like he had felt like he was being watched the entire time. But not in the sense that someone was wanting to do him harm.

Bah.

He tossed the soda can down a garbage chute and walked up to the bridge, leaning on the doorframe and looking in. "So. What's the plan?"

Well, here's what we've got." Peppy brought up on holographic display. "Several complexes, stoking out from one main one… but it looks like the main one has a back entrance here." He tapped one of the dots. "So we're going in from the back, and the high brass are going to order a bombardment for most of the main complex. Bunker busters."

"Works for me. What exactly is this back entrance?"

"Looks like a massive air vent. We'll be able to fly right in." Falco said. "We're guessing from inside we'll be able to destroy his generators."

"Guesswork. We all know I love guesswork." He snorted, rolling his eyes. "This a milk run?"

"No, not hardly. Our friends Star Wolf seems to be running a high-speed patrol of the area. Unless we're really damn fast, they'll see us and muck up the works." Falco shrugged. "We can take them."

"I'm inclined to agree. Any other lurking surprises?"

"They haven't found Andross' command cruiser." Peppy remarked, looking through printouts. "It wasn't one of the ones wrecked at Area Six. It's MIA. The boys back home are guessing it's behind Venom, hiding in the interference."

"Hm. Well, that isn't of much consequence, we can always go and look for it later. When are we deploying?"

"Ok, this is how it works." Wolf said, pressing the code to close his arwing, adjusting his headset mic. "They're coming in, hot and fast, and we're to intercept and shoot them down. Fox is our primary directive here, but the rest of the team is good kills as well. Their cruiser is in orbit. Guys, if we lose this, we've lost the war."

"Boy, you're a ray of fuckin' sunshine." Pigma said, launching and falling into formation, not surprised when Wolf didn't answer, merely throwing the throttle to full.

Wolf knew he was most likely going to die. If he got shot down on Venom and lived through it, he had about ten minutes before he asphyxiated: the air here was thin and toxic. And his confidence had drained. They'd already heard about Bolse being pummeled. Lylat was coming for them full force.

Let them come, he decided. Get it over with.

James sighed, crossing his arms and standing, staring at the terminal and listening with his eyes closed. He could see it play out in his head as it happened: the annihilation of Bolse station, the starting of the bombing runs against Venom. And woven through it all, the voice of his son, in constant contact with the Lylat forces as he started his attack run. James frowned, switching frequencies, and wasn't surprised. Star Wolf was also on the way, and he heard Andross' voice.

"Just take them out. If we expect to even have a chance to survive this, they've got to die, especially the McCloud boy. In the event you four can't stop them, I do have a contingency plan. If I'm going down, so are they."

James slapped the consol, rubbing his eyes, and walked over to the dresser, taking his old uniform out of the bottom drawer. Thank god Andross had let him keep it… he stripped out of the Venomian uniform gladly, and was half-dressed when there was a knock at his door.

He opened it, and smiled at Marisa, who looked worried—she'd obviously already been informed about Lylat's push on Venom. "That's part of the uniform I first met you in." She said immediately, stepping into the room. "James. What's going on?"

He said nothing, finishing getting dressed except the jacket, putting the holster on and checking the ammo on his guns. Only when that was done did he look at her, a hard look on his face. "He's going to kill my son, Marisa."

She looked back at him, trying to find words and unable to. She couldn't argue what he said.

"I can't let him do that."

"I know."

He shrugged into the jacket, then drew her into a kiss, which she gladly returned, standing together for a few seconds, knowing her future was totally unknown from here. James obviously had some sort of plan, she'd just have to trust him. "Am I coming with you for this?" She finally asked, tucking her face into his neck.

"If you don't mind."

"What are you going to do?"

"Hell, I'm making this up as I go. I do have one thought, though…"

The command crew, helpless, had gathered on their deck, talking in low voices, watching as Venom was blitzed by Lylat, and listening as their emperor quite obviously lost what was left of his sanity. They knew it was only a matter of time before they were found, and killed, and no one liked the idea much. But what was the alternative?

They were so wrapped up in their conversations that they didn't notice the elevator door slide open until they heard the very distinctive noise of two hammers being knocked back.

"Hi there."

"You have got to be shitting me." One of the commanders said in a flat, blank voice, staring at James, who stood their calmly, his guns leveled at them gang-style. Marisa peeked out from behind him, looking worried, but very obviously not a hostage.

"Relax. I'd just love to know where Pigma Dengar's arwing is stored. Then I'm borrowing a shuttle."

"Will we be getting it back?"

"Nope. But you won't be getting me back either." There was a long silence as they looked at each other, then came to the silent "fuck it" agreement, one printing the information out and passing it to him. He holstered his guns and took it, nodding his thanks. "If I were you guys, I'd eavesdrop on the radio channels and send up a white flag as soon as you think Andross is gone."

"Betray our emperor?" One sputtered.

"In case you haven't noticed, he's not much more then an insane scientist now. A very dangerous insane scientist. I got nothing against you guys. Everyone makes a bad choice now and then. Correct it." And that said, James went back into the elevator, Marisa still close behind him.

"That was mean." Marisa remarked, but she had to grin. "Effective, though."

"That's the point. They see the guns with this uniform, and they back away and give me room." James looked at the printout, which had coordinates and a small map. "Good, this is a distance from the battlefield." There was a pause as he got out of the elevator, leading her down the hallway to the main hanger.

"Oh my god…" Marisa stared. The last time she had been here, it had been wall to wall fighters. They were all gone. A small collection of shuttles sat off to one side, and James crossed the emptiness easily, studying the selection. "They're all still new." She remarked, standing beside him.

"We want this one." He said, picking one at the rear and going up the lowered ramp. "In case you're wondering why, it's marked as medical. Even if Lylat sees us, they won't dare shoot at us. Geneva convention bars the killing of medics. Worst they'll do is hail us."

"Oh…" She came up the ramp and sat uneasily as he prepared the shuttle for launch, closing the doors and bringing the engines up, everything automatic, he had done things like this thousands of times. "You should teach me to fly someday."

He grinned at her, and it was joyous. Vixy, as much as he loved her, had never shown the remotest interest in learning to fly. "I'll be glad to teach you." He buckled in, she followed his example, and he punched the shuttle forward, out of the docking bay in seconds and hitting the atmosphere. "Here's what's going to happen. Arwings are one-seaters. You'll have to wait with the shuttle while I do this."

"But…"

"No other way. I can't take this into a combat zone easily, and as said, I can't take you in the arwing." He glanced at her, reaching over and catching her hand. She returned the hold, lacing her fingers with his possessively. "Don't worry. It'll be ok."

"Don't you dare die on me."

"I won't."

Wolf wasn't surprised when Fox, teamed up with Falco, sent him down. He had been the last one in the air. Andrew and Pigma had been easy targets for the now battle-hard StarFox team, and while Leon had fought tooth and nail it had only been a matter of time as they were now outnumbered. Wolf had wanted to tell Fox that his father was alive, but in the end just accepted it, letting the Wolfen pummel. He was pretty sure that Fox had noticed that he'd quit trying.

He also wasn't surprised when his eject malfunctioned. What DID surprise him is that he survived the fact, and stayed conscious in spite of the pain, watching through blurry eyes as the lead arwing broke from the group and went after Andross. The remaining three arwings circled a few times, then broke off into orbit.

He sighed, letting his head fall back and trying to remember why he had thought this whole mess had been a good idea. He was so absorbed that he almost didn't catch another engine approaching.

The arwing that was circling in was the old model. He lifted his head in surprise, it was going from wreck to wreck, as if figuring out what had happened. That was all Wolf needed to know, and even as he struggled to remain awake he yanked the flaregun off his jacket and fired the one shot, letting his arm fall as his eyes closed. What the hell, maybe it was worth it to keep trying…

James had seen the wrecks immediately, and had circled in slow, monitoring what was going on inside the compound over the radio. Some sort of fight between Andross and his son, he hadn't a clue what was going on but it didn't sound over yet, so he figured he had a second to check the wrecks. He had been almost sure they were all dead when the arc of light had cut the air, the firework bursting in neon flickers.

He immediately boosted over to where the flare had come from, rolling the arwing and slowing down. The cockpit had been broken out, bad eject obviously, the parachute caught on the broken glass. He traced the path of the light that still glimmered, and saw the body. "Oh god, Wolf." He whispered, then shook off. "I will be back. Just hold on." Then he threw the throttle on, boosting straight up and u-turning into the exhaust pipe.

Fox, meanwhile, was convinced Falco had slipped him acid. He almost understood the whole idea of a telekinetic amplifier, which sort of explained why he was dealing with massive hands and a head, not war machines. Either way, this battle was demented, and he was relieved when it was very suddenly over, until it became apparent that Andross had triggered some sort of self-destruct for the base. He slammed on the air-brakes and u-turned, fleeing back the way he came, and finding himself lost in the maze of corridors he'd come through. There had only been one path with various forks when he'd come through, he'd figured they all led here, but he knew they didn't all lead out, and with the fire rushing up behind him he didn't have time to make decisions, let alone the wrong one…

"Don't ever give up, son."

Fox snapped his head around, gaping as the older arwing came in ahead of him. "Father?" He blurted, mindless, knowing it was impossible, but there was no denying it, he saw the heads-up display.

"Follow me." James brought up the tunnels on his VR, leading them out, watching the other arwing, already damaged from the fight, struggling to keep up. "Come on kid." He said under his breath, cutting left, then right, the newer model mimicking him automatically.

"… Is it really you?"

He didn't bother answering, just reached up one-handed and slid the sunglasses down so Fox could see his eyes briefly. No words needed there.

Then daylight showed above them, a straightaway, and James opened the throttle, bursting out ahead of his son and dropping to the deck, hiding in the smoke and disappearing from radar. "You've grown so strong, Fox." He finally whispered into the radio, watching the other arwing break free of the fire, and start circling as James shut the radio off. "Go, son." He said, and watched as the newer arwing did, breaking for the atmosphere, bearing tidings of victory to his copilots. "See you later, maybe." He turned the arwing and opened the throttle again, heading back to the coordinates where Marisa waited.

"Something wrong, Fox?"

Fox was twisted in his seat, staring back at Venom, then settled back down, looking around again. "No… no, nothing's wrong…" He finally said, smiling as Bill fell in with him. Victory. Man, it felt good. But… hadn't he just seen his father? He shook off, sighing and crossing his arms, letting autopilot take over. At least… there was some closure in it, he decided. At least he knew his father was proud. Wherever he was.

Marisa watched as the arwing swung in, landing, James leaping out seconds later. "I was listening on the radio." She said, meeting him. "So it's over."

He held her briefly, then sprinted up the ramp of the shuttle, going to huge cabinets and popping them open. "Oh thank god." He whispered, looking at the full stock. "Prep that bed to receive someone ok?"

"James, what…?"

"We're picking up an injured." He replied, closing the shuttle up and lifting, abandoning the arwing. No sorrow there, it hadn't been his. "Wolf O'Donnel."

"He's still alive?"

"He fired a flaregun when he saw me incoming. So I'm hoping to god he still is." He hesitated. "He's a good kid, Marisa."

"I know." She steadied herself and stepped over to him, setting a hand on his shoulder as the medical transport screamed through the atmosphere. "… what if he's…"

"Then we bury him."

The rest of the flight was silent. No one hailed them, any Lylatian forces nearby didn't notice them as they weren't painted as hostile. James breathed a sigh of relief at that as he brought the shuttle in lower, touching down about ten feet away from the wreck. "Air mask." He said briefly, putting one on himself. She followed suit, watching as he grabbed one of the medial boxes and a hand-held scanner, sprinting down the ramp. She had totally missed this relationship, she mused, jogging after him. James hadn't said much, but it was clear he was taking O'Donnel under his wing.

James skidded to a halt next to Wolf's unconscious form, dropping to one knee and activating the scanner. The first scan gave the good news: no broken neck, back, or incredibly severe head injuries. The second scan gave all the bad. "Oh, man." He moaned out, watching the tallies come back.

"How bad is it?" Marisa asked, biting her lip. The only obvious place Wolf was hurt was one of his legs, which appeared to be bleeding profusely.

"Not good. His left femur's been snapped in six places, two compounds. That's the blood." He gestured, and she swallowed hard. "Most of his ribs up one side of his chest are broken, collarbone is fractured on that side as well. Internal bruising, and some bleeding. Severe concussion, no brain damage estimated." He looked at her helplessly. "Marisa… I've had two field medic classes and that's it."

"So we do our best and get him to a doctor." She replied, taking the box from him and kneeling beside him. "What's the first move?"

"Morphine."

Wolf startled when the needle entered his leg, opening his eyes and not surprised when a hand promptly pushed on the shoulder that didn't hurt. "James?" He heard himself ask groggily.

"That's me. Sit up and I kick your ass."

"That bad huh?"

"Jigsaws come to mind. Just try to relax, ok? I'm loading you up with morphine, then we're going to try to split your leg and move you."

"I don't like the try part." He replied vaguely, letting his head fall back again.

"Well, I'm not a medic. But at least you're lucid. How do you feel?"

"Shitty. Cold."

"That's shock setting in most likely." James admitted, tossing the second empty syringe aside and running back to the shuttle, retrieving a hover stretcher and a splint kit. He was halfway back when another engine reached him, and he stopped, watching as a small surface fighter approached. He closed the distance to Marisa and Wolf, setting down the supplies and pulling his guns, crouching and waiting.

The fighter landed, the cockpit opening and the pilot leaping free, wings opening. Both James and Marisa gaped as Anna, Andross' bodyguard, glided over easily, wings beating as she landed. "McCloud. Marisa." She said, voice short, abrupt.

"What are you doing here?" Marisa asked.

"… I was asked to give you this." She took a manila envelope out from inside her jacket, holding out to James. "It was his last request. He told me to tell you… 'take care of her.'"

James holstered the guns, taking the envelope, unable to disguise his confusion. "Is he…?"

"No. He's dying. He had me do this."

"You could come with us, Anna." Marisa finally said. "I'm not sure where we're going… but I'm sure it'd be nicer then Venom."

She shook her head. "No. I should be with him. He's all I've ever had." Leaving it at that, she turned and returned to the plane, taking off and leaving them.

"Well, that was… unexpected." James finally said, folding the envelope and tucking it inside his jacket, kneeling beside Wolf again, who blinked at him groggily. "Still with us?"

"Mm-hmm. Much better now that the morphine has kicked in."

"Try to stay awake for a while. This may be awkward…" He opened the split kit and glanced at Marisa. "Are you ok to help me with this?"

She was rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, and stopped when he addressed her, nodding. "I think so."

"Ok, listen carefully… we screw this up, we'll make it a lot worse…"

Ten minutes later they were guiding the hover stretcher to the shuttle, Wolf having drifted into unconsciousness. His leg was splinted, and the bleeding mostly contained; but James knew he couldn't do much else for the younger man.

"Where are we going?" Marisa asked as James moved Wolf easily to the medical bed in the shuttle, buckling the straps down over his chest. Wolf woke back up long enough to protest the restraint weakly once, James ignored him: if he had to start high-speed maneuvers, the last thing he needed was Wolf falling off the bed as he barrel-rolled.

"Only one place I can think of to go. I'm dead, so that pretty much negates Lylat. There would be a lot of awkward explaining… not to mention, Wolf being held as a war criminal." He sighed, putting the stretcher back on its rack and moving to the shuttle's cockpit. "Papetoon."

"Papetoon?" She frowned at him.

"It's a colonization planet. Farming mostly. Has a planet-wide population about the same as Corneria City." He chuckled. "I'm from there, originally. Haven't been there in over two decades."

"You did mention you were from there…" She said thoughtfully, thinking back. "You didn't say much about it though."

"I was a pirate." He replied absently, buckling into the pilot's chair and starting the shuttle up. "Your basic rebel-with-a-cause, but without-a-clue." He smiled at her when she burst into giggles. "I've got to get us out of here, want to open this for us?" He handed her the manila envelope and lifted the shuttle, blasting through the atmosphere and keying up the hyperspace controls. "What is it?" He asked, waiting for the calculations to run, glancing at her.

"James…" She had pulled the contents out, which appeared to be maybe ten sheets of paper. "These are… bank accounts."

"What?" He took one of the sheets, and gaped. "Oh my god. These are the account numbers and keys for his out-system accounts. Marisa, this is his war chest!"

"His what?"

"How he funded his armada. He didn't do it all for free, he had to pay his soldiers, buy the craft… Wolf told me he was nearly broke, couldn't run the armada another month… but…" He took the other sheets, which she passed over easily, and shuffled through them. "Holy fuck." He let his hands fall, staring at her. "We just inheirited 14.3 million credits."

"We could live off that for years…"

"Babe, on Papetoon, we just covered ourselves and our next three generations."

"Is that a marriage proposal?"

He was silent, then leveled a finger at her. "That's not exactly how I meant it, but we'll talk about that after we get Wolf to a doctor. Ok?"

She nodded, and the hyperspace engines kicked in.

A side note…

Four hours after Andross' defeat, Lylatian groundforces hit the dirt on Venom and started going through what remained of his ground facilities. They had been informed by a command cruiser that had run up a white flag that there was still personnel alive on the surface, so they decided to investigate. They found many scientists and other non-combatants, and one other person of note.

A marine squad, going through a half-destroyed building, found a smoke filled room with a huge sparking machine in the center of it. They circled it uneasily, guns brought to bear, and came across the shock of their lives.

Andross' body was sprawled across the stone floor, and a young girl was knelt at his side, one of his obviously cold hands clasped between her hands. A pair of white wings were partly open off her back, and long dark hair hung down, covering her face. The marines approached slowly, and one finally knelt on the other side of Andross' body warily, his squadmates covering him automatically.

"Miss?"

She looked up slowly, looking at him with red, tear-swept eyes.

"Miss, are you all right?"

She nodded wearily, releasing Andross' hand and standing, ignoring the guns that tracked her movements as she closed her wings. "Yes. Yes, I'm all right."

"Are you part of the Venomian forces?" The marine also stood.

"… not anymore." She rubbed at her eyes, finally looking at the rest of the marine squad. "I'm not armed. And the one man I would have fought for is dead at my feet. I won't hurt you."

The guns lowered slightly, the marines glancing at each other.

"I have no home. Can I go to yours?"

Ten minutes later a marine squad left the building, guns over their shoulders, escorting a young woman to a shuttle. They didn't bother asking questions, and she was glad, collapsing on a bunk on the shuttle and sleeping. The marines didn't wake her.

"That's Papetoon?" Marisa stood, looking out the shuttle's windshield to look at the planet.

"Yeah, it's not much. Farming planet, pretty backwater. But its home." James flipped switches, preparing for atmospheric descent, and sighed. He wasn't looking forward to part of this, but he didn't know where else to go. "Computer: access Papetoon phone directory. I need the number of one Stephan Luke McCloud, MD, retired."

_Accessing..._

"Any relation?" Marisa spared James a glance, but James only shook his head.

_Numbers found. One business, one home._

"Call the home one." James sighed, lining the shuttle up for a descent corridor absently. The phone rang several times, then a voice answered, tired, half-awake.

"Doctor McCloud speaking. I assume this is medical as it's three in the morning."

"Yeah. It is. Listen, uh, dad..."

"... James?"

"Yeah. Listen, I have an injured man on board and I'm coming in hot. Do you still have the room set up at the ranch?"

"... Yes, I do. How injured?"

"Left femur is broken in six places. Several broken ribs, fractured collar bone. Head trauma. Coughing up some blood. It probably didn't help that I was forced to move him." James punched the shuttle forward, burning through the corridor, used to it. "I don't know where else to take him. Will you help me?"

"With the understanding that we have a very long talk afterwards, yes. I'll wake your mother, I'll need her help."

"Thanks dad." He signed off, and saw Marisa looking at him. "Yes, my parents are alive. Last time I saw them was at my marriage. I paid for their flight tickets to come to Corneria for it."

"… well this might be awkward, being I do look like your wife."

"You're probably right, but I'll already be updating them on the last many years, adding another few months' worth of story won't be that hard."

They finished the burn, and James took the shuttle lower, watching his coordinates absently, smiling when his current location lined up with his target location. He circled, looking out the viewports, and saw flares burning on the ground two hundred feet below him. He took the hint, touching down easily between the flares, shutting the shuttle down and opening the ramp. "Hey." He said, going to the open door.

His father elbowed by him, kneeling by the bunk and starting his own scanner. "What happened to this kid?"

"Eject for his plane malfunctioned. Seems he was sent out the hard way, but luckily for him he was wearing crash gear." James replied, not surprised.

"So you took the helmet off."

"I'd already scanned him, so I knew his back and neck were fine. I took it off when I moved him to the shuttle."

"Good boy. Still have the hover stretcher?"

Five minutes later James and Marisa were following Stephan and his wife inside the huge sprawling ranch house, easily moving through the wide hallways and turning into a room which had swinging doors. They stepped in, and Marisa gaped around at what appeared to be an emergency room.

"Ranchers get hurt a lot, and my dad's a very good surgeon. He found it to be a good idea to have something like this nearby." James said softly to her, watching Wolf get moved to an emergency table, not surprised when an older medical AI fired up and hovered over.

"Out! Both of you out! Let us do what we do best!" His mother said, shooing them, pausing in the doorway. "… It's good to see you're all right, James."

"The news of my death was falsely and widely spread." He replied sourly.

She turned to go back into the medical room, and stopped, looking over her shoulder. "We may be on the fringe, son, but we're not stupid. This kid is in a Venomian uniform. Don't think we don't watch the news."

"… Um…"

"You can tell us later."

"Thanks mom."

She only shook her head, the doors swinging closed behind her.

"… Well, I can say that's one hell of a story." Stephan looked at James over his coffee mug, then his eyes traced over to Marisa, who was drinking her own mug of coffee. "So what now?"

"Depends, am I forgiven?" James asked, leaning back in his chair and sighing.

"You fuckin' left. We saw you once after that. And you want to know if you're forgiven?"

"Well, yeah."

"Hah, you haven't changed at all. You're over forty years old, and you're still acting like you're eighteen." Stephan snickered.

"Did you expect anything else out of me?" James wanted to know, grinning sourly.

"Yes. You're forgiven. But if you ever take off on us again, I'm hunting you down myself."

"… thanks, dad." He smiled, picking up his own mug. "Ok, next thing on the list. Wolf. Is he going to be ok?"

"Only reason he's going to be able to walk is because I had nanotech repair kits on hand. I stopped all the bleeding, including internal, his ribs and collarbone are fine now, but he's going to be sore a long time. His leg, well… he's going be stuck in a leg brace for a long time. And using a cane, at the least."

"I imagine he can live with that."

"So, what now?"

"I'm going to reopen the Hideout."

Stephan stared at him a while, and realized that James wasn't kidding. "Last I saw, that wasn't much of a place to live."

"I'm rich. We'll work with it. Until it's brought up to standard, can we hang out here?"

"You're welcome here." His mother replied, setting a platter of pancakes on the table. "You're welcome here anytime."

James smiled at her. "Good. Thanks mom."

"That does not forgive a boarding-house reach."

He sighed and shook his head, his brain already in motion. 14.3 million credits? Here, they could live off five million credits for the rest of their lives. And he had some pretty creative ideas on what to do with some of the rest.

Author's Note: Don't think it's over yet, folks. There will be an epilogue.


	13. Epilogue

Author's Note: Sorry this took me so long.

Epilogue

Two Months after the war…

Fox sighed, shutting the engine off on his car and sliding out, picking up the flower bouquet from the passenger seat and walking across the graveyard. His weekly ritual ever since he had touched back down after the war. Every Saturday morning, he bought some flowers and came here.

But even as he approached, he could tell something was different about the pair of gravestones that sat away from the others, on a private plot. He crouched on his heels between the two graves, frowning at the message that had been left for him in chalk.

_I'm not dead._

Written in strong masculine writing across his father's gravestone. Below it, two series of numbers. He frowned, fishing his cell phone from his pocket and hitting the speeddial, staring at the strange message. A prank? Or… was this real?

"Hey Fox."

"Listen, Peppy, I need a favor. I need you to write down some numbers and figure them out for me."

"Ok, sure, I'll try."

Fox read them off, having Peppy repeat them back to him, then said, "Any ideas?"

"Sure, I know exactly what this is. This is a planetary coordinate. A latitude-longitude. Any idea what planet it's for?"

"… No." Fox replied, using the edge of his sleeve to wipe the chalk away and standing, leaving the flowers on his mother's grave.

"Fox, where did you find this?"

"Written on my father's grave." And he disconnected, running back to his car.

"Look, it's got to be a prank. Your father died. I saw it." Peppy said, looking at the coordinates. "Furthermore, this coordinate is in the middle of the ocean for Corneria."

"So it isn't Corneria." Fox snapped. "And what exactly DID you see, Peppy? You saw my father get shot down. You did NOT see him die!"

Peppy sighed, staring at him. He wasn't getting through to Fox, he could tell that much. "Ok. But even if he's alive, what is this? Why leave a coordinate without saying which planet it's for?"

"He's giving me where to meet him. But he's making me figure it out." Fox replied, staring at the numbers and trying to put it together. "Wouldn't be Venom, either."

"Fox, if he was shot down, he would have crashed there."

"He wouldn't be there now. He made it back into the city to write on his own grave, I think he's mobile." Fox frowned at him. "It was his handwriting Peppy."

"Handwriting can be forged." Slippy said, who had been watching this silently.

"Oh, don't tell me you're siding with him!" Fox burst out, then sighed when the phone rang, hitting the speakerphone answer. "Fox McCloud, Great Fox."

"Hey Fox! It's Beltino."

"Hi dad!" Slippy grinned.

"Hey son. Don't worry, I'm not calling to charge you money, I'm calling to congratulate you! I have no idea how you did it."

"… uh. Did what, Beltino?" Fox asked blankly.

"Your account was fully paid as of an hour ago. We already have the money posted to the account. Damn, man, you made that much for the war?"

There was utter silence as the three looked at each other. "Beltino, we didn't pay it off." Peppy said very slowly. "That payment we sent you right after the war was all we could manage."

"Then you have a mysterious benefactor, but either way, you're in the free and clear. Well, I should go…"

"Wait, wait a minute Beltino." Fox said, looking at the coordinates. "Can you tell us anything about the account that paid us off? They had to have posted it from a bank account."

"Yes, it was… You know, I'm not supposed to do this, it's confidential information." Beltino admonished, looking at the receipt he had.

"Humor me."

"Not much to say. It's a business account, I don't know the company name. Based off of… Papetoon? What the hell?"

"Oh my god. That's it. Thanks Beltino." He hung up, looking at the other two on the command deck. "Sort for launch. We're leaving."

"Bill's on the way to visit, and Falco's due back in half an hour." Slippy protested.

"… ok, fine, fuck it, but we leave as soon as they get here."

"You can't possibly believe this." Peppy said.

Fox just looked at him, shook his head, and left the command deck.

"The coordinates check out." ROB reported, showing a holographic display of Papetoon. "Half an hour's drive from a large city. Lots of landing space."

"I don't get it, what's the significance of Papetoon?" Falco asked.

"My dad was born there. Came here when he was about twenty." Fox replied, fingers flying across a keyboard, digging for more information. "He dropped me the story in two pieces. He's alive, and he went back to his homeplanet."

"But why not just come home?" Peppy wanted to know, spreading his hands.

Fox stopped, chewing his lower lip. "I don't know. I want to find out. Even if this is just a lead to someone who knows what happened, I need to know."

"I'm with you." Bill said. "I miss the old man."

"We all do." Slippy said. "But this stinks of being a trap."

"A trap set by who? They found Andross' body. We personally gunned down Star Wolf." Falco said.

"Ok, good point, but still…"

Fox huffed, moving to the viewports and staring out at the hyperspace-blurred stars. "What's our ETA, ROB?"

"Half an hour. We're hitting the fringe." The robot replied.

"All right."

"Morning, Wolf." James said, pouring another cup of coffee and handing it to the younger man, who leaned his cane against the cabinets and took the mug two-handed gratefully. "How did you sleep?"

"Eh, all right. The pain drugs help. I just wish I knew why your dad kept switching my prescription every two weeks." Wolf took a drink, sighing in contentment. Apparently, one of the crops grown on Papetoon was coffee, down in the southern hemisphere, and it was superb.

"Addiction blocking. He's rotating you between four pain drugs, all of which have different main active ingredients." James shrugged.

Wolf nodded once. "How did your little trip go?"

"Went all right. Now it's just waiting to see how it turns out. If the boy is smart enough to add two and two."

"He seemed pretty damn bright on the battlefield." Wolf rubbed the back of his neck one-handed. "Should we be expecting him imminently?"

"Well, it's… about eleven there, Cornerian City time." James looked at the clock on the wall, frowning thoughtfully. "So yeah, I think maybe. I'm already preparing for a massive barbeque."

"I noticed the fridge is packed with meat and booze. You have like seven kinds of alcohol in there, easily." Wolf lifted an eyebrow.

"You'll see when they get there. That said, would you be willing to make a store run in a little bit?"

"Eh, sure. I'm living on your dime, man, I'll do what I can to make it up."

James reached over and ruffled the fur between his ears. "You don't have to, kid." He poured another cup of coffee and left the spacious kitchen, padding down the gently rounded highway and turning into one of the bedrooms. "Marisa." He crouched by the bed, waiting for her to stir.

She did, lazily, and smiled at him. "Morning. Oo, thanks." She accepted the mug, sitting up in bed. "What time is it?"

"About nine AM. Figured you'd want a wake-up call." He sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm expecting my son to show up at some point today."

"I'm looking forward to it." She smiled at him, and they leaned into each other, James setting his muzzle on top of her head absently. The first week on Papetoon had been chaos, James running around and pulling on every old connection he had, getting the money secured in local accounts, arranging for them to have local ID, and pulling every decent construction firm he could. As it had turned out, the "Hideout" he had referred to was, as Wolf had glibly put it, a hobbit home. It had only been partly tunneled out into a hill, locked up for years, unfinished. When they had arrived the first time with a survey crew, James had been ecstatic to find his hover motorcycles still parked in one of the rooms, which had been promptly moved to his father's ranch. After that, a design was drawn up, and the house was finished, sun tunnels letting in natural light everywhere, outer rooms with windows to the outside. Marisa loved it; there was something instinctually satisfying about living in some very classy underground tunnels. "… how are we going to explain this to your son?" She finally asked, nuzzling his shoulder then turning her head aside so she could take a drink of her coffee.

"We'll figure it out." He gave her one last squeeze and let her go, standing. "Wolf and I already went through the shower, so you have the hot water heater all to yourself."

She smiled and nodded, and he left the room, picking up a phone as he passed it and dialing a number, pinning it between his cheek and shoulder. "Hey dad."

"Hey James, what's the occasion?"

"Well, nothing's set yet, but there's a very good possibility my son and his crew are showing up today, and I'm going to have a barbeque if they do. Want to come?"

"We'll be there. What time?"

"Sometime around lunch."

"All right, see you later."

He hung up and hung the phone off his belt absently, walking onto the back patio and staring out absently. The hill was surrounded by open plains and fields, plenty of landing room if they decided to fly straight in as opposed to landing at the airport and driving out. He had an old friend who basically ran the airport; he'd be getting a phonecall when the Great Fox showed up on their radar.

So now it was just the waiting. But what the hell, he'd been waiting two months, what were another few hours?

"This is Papetoon Flight Command, please identify yourselves."

"This is Fox McCloud, commander of the fast-attack cruiser Great Fox. We are requesting landing clearance for…" He looked at the map, and read off the name of the town he was heading for.

"Acknowledged, Great Fox. We do not have landing slips appropriate for your cruiser. We suggest you fly down in smaller craft. Are you here on business?"

"No… just visiting family."

"All right, how many craft should I clear?"

Fox glanced over his shoulder. "Five fighters."

"Acknowledged. You're clear to start corridor descent in four minutes."

Fox signed off, picking up his jacket and shrugging into it absently. "Shall we?"

"Corridor descent?" Bill wondered out loud, following Fox as the others did, going down to the launching bay. "Man, that's a flashback. They must be restricting incoming traffic."

"On an agg planet, it's pretty standard operating procedure." Peppy said. "Can't have kids doing low-flying over farming fields, it'll rip them up."

"Guess that makes sense."

"Ok, here's the plan." Fox said, hopping up into his arwing and buckling in. "We be nice boys and use their corridor, then break and head to the coordinates. If I know my dad, he'll have landing space available."

"If it is your dad."

"Peppy, you are such a killjoy sometimes."

"They're incoming." James reported, leaning on the car's A-pillar. "So this is actually good timing. I can do at least part of a fill-in before you two get back."

"Well, don't be too long winded about it, we won't be that long." Marisa smiled at him, relaxing behind the wheel of the car. James' mother, Emily, had taught her to drive while James had been running around getting everything dealt with, and she seemed to enjoy the independence it gave her. Wolf was sitting shotgun.

"You don't have to go, you know." Wolf remarked to Marisa.

"Hey, I volunteered." She directed the smile to him, starting the car and pulling away, going down the long driveway and turning onto the main highway toward the city.

James watched them go with a sigh, smiling to himself, and picked up a box of flares, going toward the back of the house. From descent corridor to his house was less then five minutes. He popped the flares open and threw them, marking the landing zone absently, and picked up his coffee mug peacefully.

He didn't have long to wait before the planes became visible, flying in as low as the local law allowed, diamond formation. He stayed where he was, setting down his mug and lifting an arm silently as the planes came lower over the fields around the Hideout, doing a wide circle and then a tight one around the flares, touching down in formation. Fox leapt out of his plane, touching down on the ground and staring for a second, then running across the grass and meeting him with a bearhug, laughing.

"I didn't figure Venom could get lucky and kill you." He remarked, letting go and stepping back, grinning at his father. "What the hell took so long dad? It's been two months since the end of the war!"

"I had to get some things done. I'm glad to see you can put two and two together."

"So you are the one who paid off the Great Fox? How did you get the money?"

"In due time." James assured him, looking to the others, who had caught up. "Hey, boys."

"James, man, I can't believe it. How many lives do you have?" Peppy said by way of greeting, clapping hands with him and grinning.

"A lot more, I'm sure. Come on, come inside. I'll tell you the entire story." He turned, picking up his mug and leading them across the patio, opening the sliding glass door and letting them pass him and go into the kitchen.

"Is this place underground?" Falco finally asked, looking around.

"Berm house. Right?" Slippy said at the same time.

"Exactly." James nodded at Slippy, setting his empty mug in the sink. "Cost a fortune, but it's worth it. You guys want a drink? I hold it's ok early in the day if you're planning a barbeque. And I am." Bill laughed, and they all nodded, James opening the fridge and studying the assorted bottles. "And besides, drinking age here is eighteen. Ok, let's see if I remember. My son and Falco are hard lemonades…" Two bottles flew over his shoulder, they scrambled to catch them. "Bill's the cranberry variety… Peppy's a beer man, hey I found your brand." Peppy caught the bottle, smiling at the label. "You're the one I don't know." He ended, looking around the fridge door at Slippy.

"Vodka cooler?"

"Only have the orange kind." He tossed him the bottle, closing the fridge, holding a bottle of water. "So, I imagine you want an explanation. Where shall I start?"

"I'd love to know how you survived getting shot down." Peppy said, following behind him as the group moved down the curved hallway, coming out a few minutes later in a living room. The younger members immediately found seats, Bill flopping into a beanbag chair contentedly, admiring the stereo set up across an entertainment system.

"Oh, that's the easy part." James sat, opening his water. "I let Pigma shoot me down. Let go of my controls in fact. I knew it was going to happen." He took a drink, letting this sink in. "You see, I was already contracted for work. And I'd been informed by my employer that Pigma was going to try to backstab me, and it was decided that event could be used to our advantage." Seeing Fox staring at him, he smiled tiredly. "Andross contracted me. He had… good leverage."

"WHAT!" Fox asked. "You're not serious."

"The broke mercenary takes what he could get. I knew that there was a war coming up, and that General Pepper would hire Star Fox. So did Andross, and wanted me out of the equation. But Andross and I had a long history, in fact, we used to be pretty good friends. He couldn't bring himself to kill me, so he found a good way to bring me to his side. Had me stay on his command cruiser as a noncombatant." He took a drink. "Oh, I felt like shit about it for a while, but it turned out fine in the end."

There was a long silent moment, the group glancing at each other then at James, who was silent and neutral, contemplating his water bottle and ignoring their looks.

"It wasn't money." Peppy said. "You wouldn't have worked for him for just money. What did he have James?"

James smiled slightly, setting the water bottle on a coaster and walking over to the stereo, going through the collection of disks he was slowly building back up. "I have a question for you, son." He remarked over his shoulder.

"Shoot."

"I always figured you never noticed, but it occurred to me that you may have been a lot more perceptive then I gave you credit for, even when you were young." He paused in his movements. "Did you ever pick up on what was wrong with me, these last thirteen years?"

Fox blinked at him, then sighed. "Yes."

"Am I now?"

Another long silence, during which Falco huffed. "Are you what?" He asked James pointedly. "I hate being out of the loop."

"My dad has spent the last thirteen years trying to off himself." Fox said in a blank voice. "Lucky for me, I was always able to pick up on his moods and interrupt him."

"Oh holy shit." Bill almost dropped his drink, staring at James. "Old man, you never really let on. You never even really seemed depressed."

James shrugged. "I'm good at covering my emotions. Figured I didn't need to burden my friends with my mental instabilities. When Fox's mother died, I lost it. Which brings me back to my question." He turned back to Fox. "Am I now?"

Fox stood, going over to him. They stared at each other for a while, then he smiled. "No. You're not."

"Right."

"What did Andross do?"

"Had something I wanted. Needed. Which I still have. No, not money, not drugs. Nothing so monetary, though I will say I will never need to work again." He shrugged. "When things started going to hell, I helped Fox out on Venom, then cut to here. I figured I may as well stay dead in Lylat… maybe I'll get some peace that way… and after all, my real home is Papetoon."

"So let me get this straight. You worked for Venom during the war and cut out immediately afterward." Slippy said, rubbing his chin. "For something you won't fully explain."

James grinned, and Peppy nearly did a spit-take. "I know that grin." He sputtered, getting beer out of his nose. "You don't do that satanic grin unless you've been doing something you really, really should not be doing."

James only laughed.

"Need help carrying this stuff?" Wolf asked, opening the car's hatch absently.

"Nah, it's light." Marisa grabbed the grocery bags easily, full of buns, tomatoes, and other such things. "So what are you going to do?" She finally asked, watching him close the hatch.

"I'm going to go fiddle with the hovercycle James gave me. Give them some time, maybe come in later." He finally said, picking up his cane and leaning on it. He had no idea where Stephan had got it. It was stylish, carved black wood and polished silver metal, easily making up for the fact that it split up at the end into four skidproof feet. It was better then a crutch any day. "Don't blow their brains too badly." He added this with a smile, and they split, him walking slowly around the house to the large garage, her walking across the patio and into the kitchen.

"James? I'm back." She called, setting the bags on the kitchen table. Thirty seconds later he vaulted into the kitchen, and she returned the half-hug absently, laughing. "The farmer's market in town is great, look at all this." She remarked, starting to empty the bags.

"Farming planet." He replied, leaning on the table, still looking at her as the others drifted in, Fox and Peppy stopping in the doorway until the others made them move.

"Oh, my god." Peppy said, staring at Marisa, then at James, comprehension clicking.

"Oh, hi boys!" She gave them a bright smile, finding room in the fridge for salad makings. "I've heard a lot about you. My name is Marisa. I live here."

"Hi, Marisa." Falco said, blinking. She was wearing tennis shoes, Capri jeans, and a white crop top, long hair loosely tied back. He was trying to place her age, older then him, but how much so? And why was she familiar? He'd seen a picture… somewhere…

"Mom?"

Silence reigned in the kitchen, everyone looking at Fox, who was shellshocked, staring at her with wide eyes, the bottle dangling in one of his hands. Bill rescued it before it was dropped.

Marisa stood there for a moment, looking back at this younger man. Just like the pictures she had seen, eighteen, defiant, his father's handsomeness, but her own eyes looking back at her. She sighed, smiling gently at him as she closed the fridge, stepping over and taking one of his hands. "No. Not exactly, dear. But close. Very close indeed."

"I don't understand." He replied, voice blank, feeling like he was five years old again, his brain not comprehending what was going on. It was her, wasn't it? He knew that face. He'd spent much of his first years of life memorizing it. Even after all this time, it hadn't passed from his memory.

"It isn't an easy story." She replied, still clasping his hand between her own, glancing at James. "How much have you told them?"

"Eh, not a lot. Filled them in on where I've been, that Andross and I struck a deal. I didn't go into how he bribed me." James admitted.

"Well, that's easy enough." She looked back at the others. "The reason I look like Fox's mother is because I'm genetically identical to her. I'm a clone."

Peppy stared at James. "This is how Andross paid you? Told you he'd bring your wife back?"

"As horrible as it sounds when you put it that way, yes, sort of." Marisa said, patting the back of Fox's hand gently and letting it go. Fox recovered his drink from Bill and slugged it. "But he didn't clone me because he figured he could bribe James. He cloned me because he loved Vixy too. And he's the one that accidentally killed Vixy, years and years ago." She shrugged, shaking her head. "It's hard to wrap your head around isn't it? I wasn't told any of this until recently. And it's ok. I'm ok with it. Just because my genetics code the same as a much-loved wife from years ago doesn't mean I'm not my own person. James will tell you I am not Vixy, that I am very different."

"Andross told me that if I stayed out of commission during the war, he'd let me get to know her." James said bluntly. "And Peppy, you know how unbalanced I've been the last many years. A second chance with the one person I had ever lived for? How could I turn that down? And you know what, it worked out just fine." He helped himself to a beer, and gave Peppy the satanic grin again.

"Mother of god."

James snickered softly. "So. That's why I've been gone. After the war we came here and settled in. Andross gave me the rest of his warchest, his last wish I was told, and that's how I paid off the Great Fox. I figure, it's my debt, might as well not saddle you guys with it."

"Nice of you." Fox said, finally recovering enough to speak again, looking at Marisa. "So… you're not my mom. Not exactly, anyway."

"No, sweetie. I'm not. I'm sorry."

"It's ok… you have to understand my surprise though."

"Yes I do, and I'm even getting used to it." She smiled sourly. "I seem to surprise everyone in some way or another, be it my relation to Vixy, or something else." She tossed a hand, then looked at James. "You're still grilling, right?"

"Yeah, probably will start the coals maybe 11:30."

"Great, thanks."

James looked back to the others, letting them finish catching up on what had just happened, then said cheerfully, "Any questions?"

"No, but I think you've a bit twisted." Bill said.

"Fair enough, look at me. AWOL, presumed dead, dating a clone of my former wife, living underground…" He ticked these things off on his fingers, smiling. "But, hell boys. I've been busting my ass for the Cornerian Military most of my life, and before that I was trying to force the Imperialists offplanet since I was fuckin' fourteen. I think I've earned a very, very long vacation. Like, my lifetime." He looked at Fox, who looked back. "Congratulations. Commander."

Fox blinked. "You're not coming back?"

"Oh, hell no, I'm going to find out what it's like to have hobbies and be bored." James snorted, taking a drink. "I hope you don't mind?"

"I guess I should just be grateful you're alive."

"Good boy. You guys hanging around? I've got a huge barbeque planned, and I've already taken into account your bottomless pit appetites." He got nods all around, and smiled at Peppy. "And I took the fact that you're veggie into account, Pep, I've got un-shish'ed kabobs marinating."

"Thanks."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're all taking this as well as you have been. I almost figured you'd all be freaking out by now."

"For what it's worth, I nearly did. May I have another?" Fox held up the empty bottle, smiling at Marisa when she handed him another one and pointed him to a recycle bin. "I mean, consider this chain of thought. I find out my dad's alive, then meet someone who looks like my mom. Anything else I should know?"

"Well, your grandparents will be showing up in time for lunch."

"I have grandparents now? Well hell. Guess I'll get used to having a family."

"When do I enter this equation?" A new voice asked from the door.

"Coming in already?" Marisa asked, glancing at Wolf, who leaned his shoulder against the open door. "Close the door, kid."

"Pft, kid, right, you're eight years older then me?" He asked, coming fully in and leaning on his cane. "I reached the point where I'll need another pair of hands, mostly due to the fact that my leg's being a bitch."

"Wait, whoa, FUCK! Wolf O'Donnel, right!" Falco said, finally recognizing the face he'd seen on the heads-up. The eyepatch was gone, the voice, different somehow, but comprehension had clicked.

"Yeah." Wolf poured himself coffee. "Formerly a Venomian fighter ace. But before you decide to lunge and kill me…" He turned slowly, favoring the leg, which was aching rawly. "Decide if I'm a threat."

Falco blinked, and Fox, who had been getting ready for said fight, dropped his hands and stared as Wolf leaned on the cane again. Wolf sighed and turned slowly, letting Fox see the huge leg brace, which started below his knee and went most of the way up his thigh. As Fox's eyes traced up it, he unbuttoned the shirt, letting the recent surgery scars show. "Holy shit." Fox said.

"Thanks." Wolf buttoned his shirt back up and took a drink of his coffee. "You did owe me that one." He conceded, pointing at Fox with the coffee mug. "I was being an asshole. And then there's the whole thing where you thought I helped kill your dad…"

"For what it's worth, he had been informed before hand that I was trading to his side and that I had to appear dead. In fact, Pigma was the only one NOT informed in that little band." James said. "And don't worry… he got what was coming to him."

"Did he ever." Wolf half-smiled. "Relax, guys, I'm defanged. I can barely walk, even with a cane. Some days I can barely crawl. I've already concluded that fighting with Venom was a stupid idea on my part."

"Then why did you?" Peppy asked. "Surely that was obvious pretty quick."

"Because even if I white-flagged, what would it have mattered? I only did it because I wanted to fly planes, and with this…" He pointed at his eye. "Well, Corneria Air Force said to bugger with me."

"I almost thought the eye-patch was fake. Like you were trying to make yourself seem tough." Bill said. "Mostly because I figured there is no fuckin' way a guy can be that good one-eyed."

"Well, today is your day to be surprised. I'm blind in that eye." Wolf shrugged, lifting himself and sitting on the edge of the counter, cane hooked on his arm. "To that end, can I trust that you guys will not be attempting to kill me today?"

"Anyone tries, I kick their ass." James said, and got a round of winces from all those present. "And I suppose we all know how that would end up. All right, who wants to be recruited to help me wrangle a bunch of hamburgers?"

Fox leaned on the picnic table, jaw propped on hand, watching everything happen around him. It was nearing noon, which pretty much meant the backyard was where everyone was. His father's huge grill was full, Peppy and Falco were trying to help keep track of everything and mostly failing. His grandparents had shown up, and after the whirlwind of introduction, pretty much everyone was mingling. He had been doing a lot of talking, but now was taking a few minutes to catch up with all this.

So his father was retiring from active duty. That was a good thing, he figured, and what the hell, he had his own cruiser, so he could come visit whenever he felt like it. Wolf's presence was still jarring him a bit… he'd already almost socked Wolf once out of sheer defensive instinct because he'd been studying the entertainment center and Wolf had limped by behind him. He'd apologized, Wolf had shrugged it off, it almost seemed he had been expecting it.

Then there was Marisa.

He turned his gaze to her, standing not ten feet away, talking to his grandmother. It still .. shocked him, unsettled him, disarmed him to the point of being five years old. His brain knew otherwise, but his instincts were trying to override and say, that's mom, even though it really wasn't. And he knew it wasn't, he'd been observing her the last few hours, and agreed. She was nothing like his mother, no, she was bolder, had a lot more attitude. He could see what his dad saw in her… and could see why his father wouldn't get her confused with his passed-away wife.

Yup, his life was ready for tabloids.

He jumped when Bill landed next to him and offered him his third bottle, already open. He took it gladly. "Thanks, dude."

"You looked like you needed it. You feeling ok? I mean these people aren't even my family and I'm dealing with the shocks."

"I think so. I mean, they're good shocks, you know? I went from being orphaned to getting my dad back and getting grandparents with the deal." He shrugged.

"So that's what your mom looked like man?" Bill switched subjects without blinking, which was normal for him, gesturing at Marisa with his half-empty bottle. "Man, I nearly forgot all those pictures in your house. Pardon the comment, but, DAMN."

"You'll forgive me if I glare at you. She isn't technically my mother, but I can still bitch at you for drooling." Fox replied. "My mom didn't dress like that. Not really anyway. She was more… feminine."

"I can't argue this version." Falco said, sitting down on the other side of Fox, having been removed from his position of co-chef, as James had figured out Falco hadn't a clue how to barbeque. They'd had a good laugh over him trying though. "I'm glad you said something when you did, or I would so be hitting on her right now."

"Guys, god damn it…"

Bill and Falco both laughed, unable to help it. "Dude, lighten up." Bill said, ruffling Fox's fur in jest. "Besides, if you had started hitting on her, I think old man over there would be serving you for lunch, no offense." He directed this at Falco, who stuck his tongue out.

"I heard that." James said from the other side of the patio.

"And you know it's right." Bill said cheerfully, and caught the piece of chicken James pitched at him in his mouth easily. "Thank you."

"Bah." James turned back to the grill.

"Look who's off by his lonesome." Falco remarked. Fox looked where he was, and saw Wolf sitting away from the patio, a good twenty or thirty feet away on the side of the hill, leaning on the heels of his hands and staring up at the sky.

"Hell if I were him, I would be to." Bill said. "This has got to be uncomfortable. We were all his enemies once."

"I still don't like him much. I mean, just because someone seems harmless doesn't mean they are." Falco pointed out.

"Yeah, but you're going to do what about it? He's got the old man's protection on this one, and I won't argue it. Everyone's allowed to come back from at least one bad mistake in their lifetime." Bill took a drink, and blinked when Fox stood, picking up a bottle of water. "Where are you going?"

Fox didn't reply, walking off the patio and across the hill to flop beside Wolf, offering the bottle. "Hey."

"Um, hi?" Wolf lifted an eyebrow, accepting the bottle. "What brings you over here?"

"Great day like today is, I figured no one deserves to skulk off alone." Fox replied. "And I already picked up on the fact that you're banned from booze."

"Heard Stephan give me another riot act eh?" Wolf shook his head. "He's the one that patched me up, if you didn't catch that much, and all the painkillers he's got me on.. which don't always work... mean I can't drink. Otherwise I'd probably be through a six pack by now, just because your happy ass is here." He took a drink of water, eyeing Fox sideways. "You're damn good. Just so you know."

"Thank you. I think." Fox returned the look.

"I mean it. You kicked my ass. Twice."

"No. Just once."

"What?"

"The second time, you gave up."

"Was wondering if you noticed that." Wolf said to himself, drawing up one knee and leaning on it absently, rubbing his injured leg absently. "Listen, the war.. wasn't anything personal. Just a job. And Andross was the only person who gave me a chance at what I wanted to do."

"Dude, if I was holding a grudge, you'd be back in the hospital, and I'd be in the bed next to you bitching my dad out." Fox snorted.

Wolf laughed softly at that. "Your father is an odd one all right. We got to be friends because we started sparring on the command cruiser. And after I was deployed, I needed a friendly face, so I got in the habit of calling him over the radio."

"I'm not upset about it man. It just shocked the hell out of me to see you here. I thought you were dead."

"For a few minutes there, so did I." Wolf replied. "For the record, never fly a test plane."

"I'll remember that. You going to come be social now? Or do I have to drag you?"

"Bah, good luck, I'm mostly muscle, so I'm heavy."

"Is that a dare?"

They stared at each other, and Wolf laughed. "Give me a hand up."

Fox stood and did, handing Wolf the cane, and they walked back to the patio, where lunch had just hit the table.

Marisa waved at the retreating car, smiling. It was early evening now, and James' parents had left. Fox's group was still here, bullshitting with James and Wolf in the living room by the sounds of it.

She smiled and flopped into the porchswing by the front door, moving it with one foot absently. The day had been busy, but a good one. She liked Fox, it was clear that James had done a pretty ok job of raising his son alone. It was surreal, she could tell the genes in her body had contributed to him… even if it hadn't been her. His friends were a riot act, but then again, they had spent most of the day on about two beer's worth of alcohol each. It seemed they shared a good common rottery, picking on each other freely while Peppy occasional refereed the ensuing impromptu wrestling matches.

She almost missed Andross. But she could tell her life was going to be ok.

"Marisa?"

She blinked, looking toward the door. Fox was looking out, door half-open. "Oh, hey."

"Got a minute?"

"Sure." She wove him forward, and he sat next to her on the swing, now holding a coffee mug. "What's up, kid?"

"Oh, well, not sure how to put this."

"Then say it wrong, at least then we have something to edit."

"I guess that makes sense." He took a drink, then huffed. "Look. You're not my mom. I don't remember her to good… she died when I was really little. But I remember bits and pieces, and I can tell, you're someone pretty different. I'm ok with that… and I'm ok with you and my dad being together." He took another drink, clearly mulling something over. "I guess what I want to ask is if it's ok to call you mom anyway."

She stared at him for a second, blinking, then nodded slowly. "Sure. I think that'd be just fine."

He smiled weakly. "Thanks." Leaving it at that, he stood and wandered back inside, yelling a bawdy comment as an insert to a story Bill was telling.

Almost an hour later, James came out front, and found Marisa still sitting there, smiling and rubbing at tears. He didn't ask, but, he didn't really need to.


	14. Soundtrack, Ace in the Hole

Ace in the Hole –

Music to Read By

I Would do Anything for Love – Meatloaf (Main theme song)

Loco – Coal Chamber (Traveling to Venom)

Bodies – Drowning Pool (James' fighting song)

Not Falling – Mudvayne (Wolf's theme)

How the Gods Kill – Danzig (The Gorgon fires)

Schism – Tool (Andross' theme)

It's My Turn to Fly – The Urge

Welcome to the Jungle – Guns'n'Roses (Invasion of Corneria)

Can't Take My Eyes Off You – Frankie Valli (Learning to Dance)

Something About Us – Daft Punk (Spending the Night)

Dr Feelgood – Motley Crue (Upbeat workout)

Bang Bang – Rammstein (Venom on the retreat)

Pnts. Of Athrty. – Linkin Park, Reanimation Mix (Venom looses Sector Y)

Last Resort – Papa Roach (Destruction of Area Six)

Headstrong – Trapt (Star Fox's victory)

Not Quite Paradise – Bliss (Papetoon)

Explanations:

My music taste is pretty evident here. I tried to make it a little random and not stick with the same bands or anything, but how this basically works is that I write to appropriate music, basically always. Basically everything that plays out in my head is a music video. So I figured for once I'd try to compile a decent list, and explain each pick. A lot of the explanations will just be left to the lyrics, and if you can't connect it from there, it's your issue :P

1 -- I Would do Anything for Love – Meatloaf (Main theme song)

This hit me as I was laying awake, staring at the ceiling. Enigma was in the stereo like usual, but I had Meatloaf stuck in my head for some reason, and I started watching the story play out in my head. It just seemed appropriate. It absolutely sounded like something James, the broken romantic, would sing to Marisa.

2 -- Loco – Coal Chamber (Traveling to Venom)

Another spontaneous one. My mom loaned me her MP3 player for the trip to work (I have a car kit, so I can plug an MP3 player in like a diskman and listen to it through my car's stereo). The song list went to Loco (yes, my mom listens to Coal Chamber), and I was struck dumb by this image of the Great Fox going through warp, combat ready. It's also what's playing on the bridge, when James plays the CD and Pigma scowls about it.

3 -- Bodies – Drowning Pool (James' fighting song)

A good, hard, aggressive fighting beat. ONE, nothing wrong with me, TWO, nothing wrong with me… For a broken, desperate man, what better?

4 -- Not Falling – Mudvayne (Wolf's theme)

I had just seen "GhostShip", a rather entertaining movie, and Not Falling happens to be one of the soundtrack songs. I downloaded it, and was reading the lyrics online.

I... I stand, (for nothing)

not crawling, (the center)

not falling down (of calms within the eye)

I... I'll bleed, (for no one)

the demons, (but myself)

that pull me down (for me and no one else)

5 -- How the Gods Kill – Danzig (The Gorgon fires)

Not extremely appropriate, lyrically speaking. But the awesome kick-ass guitar that comes up on the line "Show me… how the gods kill" in this song is completely appropriate for the firing of a planet-killer laser.

6 -- Schism – Tool (Andross' theme)

"I know the pieces fit  
'Cause I watched them fall away  
Mildewed and smoldering  
Fundamental differing  
Pure intention juxtaposed  
Will set two lovers' souls in motion  
Disintegrating as it goes  
Testing our communication"

A song about a nutcase whose world went to hell (as I see it). Seems perfect to me.

7 – It's My Turn To Fly – The Urge (Fox's team)

"It's my turn to fly

Got to prove it tonight

Mm, we're right on target

Keep the dream alive"

8 -- Welcome to the Jungle – Guns'n'Roses (Invasion of Corneria)

Music for seiging the suburbs, while the suburbs fight back. Another suggestion, and hey, I loved it.

9 -- Can't Take My Eyes Off You – Frankie Valli (Learning to Dance)

Ah, the song from Conspiracy Theory. Can't you see two lovers dancing to this? Unsubtle hints, too.

"You're just too good to be true.  
Can't take my eyes off you.  
You'd be like Heaven to touch.  
I wanna hold you so much.  
At long last love has arrived  
And I thank God I'm alive."

10 -- Something About Us – Daft Punk (Spending the Night)

"It may not be the right time.

I may not be the right one.

But there's something about us we've got to do.

Some little secret I will share with you:

I need you more then anything in my life.

I want you more then anything in my life.

I miss you more then anyone in my life.

I love you more then anyone in my life."

11 -- Dr Feelgood – Motley Crue (Upbeat workout)

I just love the song. And I can see someone working out to it, and smiling the entire time.

12 -- Bang Bang – Rammstein (Venom on the retreat)

As this song is in German, I can't exactly quote lyrics. You'd have to hear it. It was in XXX, by the way (yes, I was a Rammstein fan before that movie). Either way, it's snarly and aggressive, all "Go forth and kick ass!"-y.

13 -- Pnts. Of Athrty. – Linkin Park, Reanimation Mix (Venom looses Sector Y)

Another "you'd have to hear it" moment. But…

"Forfeit the game before someone takes you out of the frame, and puts your name to shame." Cruisers blowing up, retreats being ordered… yeah.

14 -- Last Resort – Papa Roach (Destruction of Area Six)

More for Andross then anything here, but it sort of fits the battle as well.

15 -- Headstrong – Trapt (Star Fox's Victory)

Back off, we'll take you on!

Headstrong to take on anyone

I know that you are wrong

Headstrong, we're headstrong

16 -- Not Quite Paradise – Bliss (Papetoon)

An easygoing song for the epilogue. And boy, does it work.

But it's not.. quite.. paradise

But it sure feels like home.


End file.
